


only fools fall

by transjackianto



Series: though i try to resist, i still want it all [1]
Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005), Torchwood
Genre: Alternate Universe - Summer before College/University, Enemies to Lovers, FTM Jack Harkness, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Implied/Referenced Biphobia, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Internalised Transphobia, M/M, Slow Burn, Trans Jack Harkness, Trans Male Author, Trans Male Character, mlm author
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-06
Updated: 2020-07-23
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:28:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 182,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24027385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/transjackianto/pseuds/transjackianto
Summary: “Oh my god,” he gasps out when his laughter has died down to softer chuckles, “I am so glad I stuck around to hear that.  Thank you Jack, I needed to laugh today. Now if you’ll excuse me,” he pushes back from the table for the third time but Jack stops him again with a hand over his own. It is a softer touch than before and that unnerves Ianto more than anything.He looks up, terrified he’s going to see some kind of earnest emotion on Jack’s face.  When he finds Jack looking instead like he swallowed a handful of pins he relaxes. He’s not sure he could handle finding out Jack had some kind of ridiculous unrequited crush on him.“I know,” Jack groans, dropping Ianto’s hand and letting his head thunk against where his arms are crossed on the table, “I want to punch myself just for saying it, but I mean it Ianto. I need you to be my boyfriend.”-Aka, Ianto just wants to make it through his summer as a newly single sixth form graduate and eagerly await the end when his ex comes back from her summer trip and they can reunite.His ex-friend Jack Harkness throws a wrench into the works.
Relationships: Jack Harkness/Ianto Jones, Johnny Davies/Rhiannon Davies, Lisa Hallett/Ianto Jones (past), Thirteenth Doctor/River Song
Series: though i try to resist, i still want it all [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1846048
Comments: 293
Kudos: 167





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> now I'm usually not a fan of complete AUs for this fandom but this bit me in the arse and wouldn't let go. I have a vague plan for this so I hope you all enjoy and tell me what you think!
> 
> thanks temporalsilence for being my cheerleader :)

There are moments in everyone's life when it feels like the world is about to change forever.

For Ianto Jones it starts one day in June while he is sitting in his favourite coffee shop. He'd finished his exams and he definitely doesn't think he'll get the grades he needs to go to London.

What the fuck was he going to do now?

He still wants to move to London to get away from his Dad. He could do that, right? He has already found a room to rent in September but how was he going to afford it without the student loans? He probably wasn't even doing university now so he wasn't going to get them. His big dreams of getting out of here were crumbling around him.

Lisa has broken up with him. Just for the summer. She is spending the summer in New York attending some fancy summer theatre course. It was supposed to be a trial run to see how they coped without the other and if they would still want to be together afterwards... He hadn't really understood it either.

_“I think we should take a break this summer, while I’m in New York,” she says, and ignores the way Ianto is already frantically shaking his head. “We take the summer apart, we don’t talk or hang out, and we give ourselves a chance to think – to figure out what it’s like to be apart. Then at the end of the summer, when I’m back, we’ll have almost two weeks before you have to be in London and we can re-evaluate. If we can survive the summer and still want to be together, then I think we can survive next year. But if we can’t- if we decide we were better off apart – then at least you can leave for London and we’ll still be friends. If we plan it like this it won’t end messy at least.”_

Now Ianto was single. What was going to be a summer making memories had turned into the start of something depressing.

Now Ianto is stuck talking to none other than Jack Harkness. God, he hates that smarmy, arrogant git. 

“No,” he says, and makes another grab for his bag. As far as he’s concerned this conversation, as odd as it is, is over.

“What?” Jack looks honestly surprised, “You can’t say no, you haven’t even heard what the favour is yet!”

“Doesn’t matter,” Ianto says shrugging, “The answer’s still gonna be no.”

It’s true, as far as he’s concerned too. He doesn’t care what Jack wants, be it anything from borrowing bus fare to a kidney. Because he doesn’t care about Jack, and he’s full up on pricks in his life as it is.

“Just hear me out,” Jack pleads, “please Ianto.”

It’s the ‘please Ianto’ that gets him, and he sits back down again even though he hates himself for doing it. Something about the way Jack says it sounds sincere. For the first time in a long time, his name on Jack’s lips hadn’t sounded like an insult.

“Fine,” Ianto concedes, “Five minutes, and you’re buying me more coffee first.”

Jack opens his mouth and Ianto is sure he’s about to argue, but he snaps his jaw shut again instead and just gives Ianto a terse nod before walking back over to the counter to place the order. It won’t be until later that night, when Ianto is laying in bed and wondering just what the hell he had gotten himself into, that he’ll realise Jack knew his coffee order.

When Jack returns he slides the coffee across the table to Ianto and makes an exaggerated ‘Your Highness’ motion that looks like a half bow. Ianto takes a tentative sip, and then another when it doesn’t seem as though Jack has added anything untoward to it. Unlike his last drink, barely touched and cold, this one is the perfect temperature and warmth blooms in his stomach when it hits. It’s comforting, and he hates that the comfort came from Jack even in a roundabout way, but figures as long as Jack doesn’t know about it there’s no harm done.

“So will you listen to me now?” Jack asks after letting Ianto sip at his drink for a few quiet seconds. He’s speaking through gritted teeth, like it’s taking effort to sit and be polite. Ianto is suddenly having a lot more fun.

“I suppose,” Ianto says, sighing as if it is a great inconvenience but he’ll allow it. He glances at the clock above the counter, smirks and adds, “You better hurry though, your five minutes are nearly up.”

“What?” Jack nearly shouts, “That’s not fucking fair, I had to get you coffee and-” he trails off when he sees Ianto shaking with silent laughter across from him at his outburst. “Oh very fucking funny. Ha-freaking-ha.”

“I thought so,” Ianto says, shrugging one shoulder as if it doesn’t matter either way. Whatever Jack wants he obviously wants badly if he’s getting this worked up. This conversation might just end up being the best part of his day, especially if the face Jack makes when Ianto inevitably says ‘no’ again is anything like the one he’s making now.

“Are you going to listen or not?” Jack finally asks, and he sounds vaguely defeated which Ianto thinks is simply _delightful_.

“Sure,” Ianto says, “Why not. This ought to be amusing.”

“You have no idea,” Jack mutters, so quiet Ianto’s not sure if he was meant to hear. He scrubs a hand over his face, runs it through his hair and huffs loudly.

“Okay, just- I know this is going to sound really fucked up but just let me… just listen okay?”

Ianto is really curious now, so he nods and keeps quiet.

“I need you to be my boyfriend,” Jack says plainly, looking like he wants to stab himself in the face rather than say it.

Ianto stares at him for a full ten seconds and then bursts into laughter. He is laughing so hard he can’t breathe; his sides hurt, his eyes are watering and he’s pretty sure he’s attracting the attention of every other patron in the shop but he can’t stop. Because that is just about the funniest thing he’s ever heard.

“Oh my _god_ ,” he gasps out when his laughter has died down to softer chuckles, “I am so glad I stuck around to hear that. Thank you Jack, I needed to laugh today. Now if you’ll excuse me,” he pushes back from the table for the third time but Jack stops him again with a hand over his own. It is a softer touch than before and that unnerves Ianto more than anything.

He looks up, terrified he’s going to see some kind of earnest emotion on Jack’s face. When he finds Jack looking instead like he swallowed a handful of pins he relaxes. He’s not sure he could handle finding out Jack had some kind of ridiculous unrequited crush on him.

“I know,” Jack groans, dropping Ianto’s hand and letting his head thunk against where his arms are crossed on the table, “I want to punch myself just for saying it, but I mean it Ianto. I need you to be my boyfriend.”

“ _Why_ Jack?” Ianto asks incredulously, “I mean, don’t get me wrong, this entire conversation is compelling in a train wreck kind of way, but _why_?”

“Because I told my mother we were dating,” Jack responds forlornly, voice muffled from where his face is still pressed into the sleeve of his shirt.

“This is like a bad game of twenty questions where every question is the same,” Ianto bemoans, “Do I even have to ask? _Why_ would you do that?”

Jack sits up finally, flopping back in his seat like all the fight has left him. He looks so upset by the whole thing that Ianto can’t even take too much joy in the other boy’s discomfort. He’s also pretty busy being tremendously confused.

“It was a few months ago,” Jack says, not meeting Ianto’s eye as he speaks and instead concentrating on the cup of coffee in front of him, twirling it from palm to palm as he elaborates. “She’d walked in on my latest hookup and, apparently, it was one time too many for her.”

“Your mother has walked in on you and your conquests more than once?” Ianto says, staring at Jack, “Jesus Jack, you’re even worse than I gave you credit for.”

Jack glares at him but ignores the jibe. 

“After I was decent she sat me down and told me that I had to stop the sleeping around or they were going to cut me off. She said they’re ‘worried’ about me, even though I told her I’m not stupid enough to fuck a random without protection,” Jack adds and Ianto just goggles at him. 

Does he really talk to his mum that way? Ianto tries to picture what would happen if he told his dad he was ‘fucking randoms’, and the colour he thinks his dad’s face would turn is not pretty. It’d probably give him a heart attack. He studies Jack across the table, trying to get a real read on him for the first time in a while. Who is this guy that thinks this is appropriate behaviour? What happened to him to make him so callous about things like this?

“Apparently,” Jack continues, oblivious to Ianto's scrutiny, “They aren’t just worried about me forgetting the rubbers. She said that sleeping around was ‘emotionally damaging’ me and that a real relationship would be good for me. She told me I could either date someone seriously or not leave the house at all until I left for university, and if I chose to go out anyway they’d clear out my bank account and take back the money they were going to use to help me through it.”

Ianto winces in sympathy. Jack may be awful, but after the way his exams went and the likelihood of him going to uni, he understood what it felt like to be without money to help you get by in a big city. Then he remembers who he’s talking to and viciously stamps any trace of good will out.

“I’m not really seeing what this has to do with me,” Ianto admits, because Jack is now looking at him as if waiting for Ianto to suddenly get it.

“I told her a couple weeks later that I was dating you,” Jack tells him, as if that ought to answer every question Ianto has left.

“Again, I say why?”

“Well I had to be dating someone!” Jack says as if it’s obvious, “I wasn’t about to sit around my house for the rest of the school year and then all summer with nothing to do.”

“But why _me_?” Ianto asks, and at this point he’s honestly curious. He and Jack hate each other, so unless this all leads up to a cruel trick being played on him Ianto's not really sure what would possess Jack to use his name.

“My dad had bumped into your dad in town earlier that day,” Jack says, “and when he came home he kept going on and on about how great friends we were in junior school. And how it was so tragic that we had fallen out. It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

Ianto is truly speechless. As if this whole situation wasn’t bizarre enough, he now has to process that somehow _his_ name has power in the Harkness household. His parents still remember how thick-as-thieves they had been as kids?

“So what’s changed?” Ianto asks, when he comes back to the present moment, “Obviously you’ve been using me as a cover for a while without my knowledge, so why do I need to know about it now?”

“Because now my mum wants you to come round,” Jack says, wincing. “She thinks we’ve been dating for nearly a month and she’s nagging me to bring you home for dinner. She's excited to see you again after all these years. I think they’re a little afraid I’ve brainwashed you into dating me or something.”

Ianto can’t help the laugh that spills out at that. He couldn't imagine how in this story, he and Jack had reconciled.

“You laugh,” Jack says, smiling grimly, “But I’m the one who has to put up with my dad constantly staring at me and shaking his head like he can’t believe I somehow managed to talk you into giving me the time of day again let alone going out with me. It’s insulting.”

“It’s _true_ ,” Ianto says, laughing fully now, “I don’t think I’d believe it even if I actually _was_ dating you.”

“You’d be lucky to date me,” Jack says hotly, “I can have any person I want with a click of my fingers, you should be honoured to be my fake boyfriend.”

“I’m rather disappointed in my pretend self for fake dating you so far.”

Jack huffs at him.

“As fantastically bizarre and entertaining as this whole conversation has been,” Ianto drawls, “I’m still not sure why on earth you think I’m going to help you out by seeing your mother.”

“Not just my mother, and not just seeing her,” Jack says, looking a little sheepish and a lot pained at the confession.

Ianto already knows there’s no way he’s doing this, but his curiosity wants to be satisfied.

“Why don’t you tell me exactly what it is you’re asking for here Jack,” he says plainly.

Jack sighs again, as if he’s the one being put upon, before answering.

“There’s a family dinner on Friday, because River's coming back into town. It’ll be her and her fiancée, my dad and mum, and Gray. They want me to bring you to see everyone.”

“So dinner with the family?”

“There’s more,” Jack says with a wince. “Kind of a lot more.”

“Oh god, alright out with it,” Ianto groans (though he is secretly quite thrilled at Jack’s discomfort. It really is lifting his spirits. Who would have thought Jack Harkness would be the one to improve his day?)

“River is back in town to get ready for her wedding,” Jack tells him. “She and Jodie are getting married in London at the end of August, but my parents insisted they come stay with us for the summer so that my mum can help with the last minute details. It’s all just really an excuse for them to show off the ‘good kid’ who’s actually doing something with her life and settling down, but whatever. The point is they’ve got all these parties and family events planned for the whole fucking summer and I’m going to be expected to bring my ‘boyfriend’ to all of them. So I’d need you around for awhile.”

“How long are we talking here?” Ianto asks. Not that he’s saying yes in any case, but he’s _certainly_ not going to agree to anything that will take him past the 10-week mark of Lisa’s return.

“Until the wedding,” Jack says, “They’re getting married on the 25th of August. After that we can break up, I’ll only have a few weeks until I leave for school anyway so even if they put me on lockdown I’ll survive.”

 _Lisa’s not due back until the 28 th_, Ianto muses and then chastises himself for thinking about it as if he’s actually going to help Jack out.

“So a few dinner parties, a wedding shower or something and the main event?” Ianto asks. He might as well hear all the details before he shoots Jack down.

Jack shrugs. “Pretty much,” he mumbles, and his entire body language is screaming ‘suspicious’ which means it’s probably a lot more than that.

“Look Jack, I’m not going to agree to anything without all the cards on the table so you might as well just be honest,” he sighs. He’s still not quite sure why he’s prolonging the conversation, except perhaps because the rest of his day consists of sitting in his room and feeling crushingly alone. Apparently he’s decided that Jack’s company is a viable alternative to that.

“Fine,” Jack says, and this time he meets Ianto’s eye, “It would probably be a day a week, maybe more when the wedding gets closer. It’s not like I have a schedule or something, I know the big events but my parents are also fans of the impromptu dinner party so you never know.”

“And I would be expected to what? Show up, behave politely and leave? Or are we going to have to put on a better act than that?” It’s really disturbingly weird hearing himself say the word ‘we’ when talking about himself and Jack.

“Some hand holding, a kiss here or there, that’d probably do it,” Jack shrugs and Ianto’s not sure whether he wants to laugh or vomit.

"There is no way I’m kissing you,” Ianto says, and Jack actually looks offended.

“Like I’d want to be kissing you if I had a choice!” Jack spits back, “We’re talking about my freedom and future here Ianto, it isn’t like I’m looking forward to it.”

“Well that’s good, because I’m not sure I could handle you telling me you actually _wanted_ to kiss me. I kind of want to bleach my lips preemptively as is.”

Jack groans in frustration again, running fingers through his hair distractedly and leaving the normally coiffed look standing up on its ends and looking a bit wild. Ianto resists the automatic urge to fix it for him.

“So you’re asking for a date a week, with the possibility of more, plus hand holding and a few closed mouth kisses here and there?” Ianto doesn’t even bother asking if the kisses Jack mentioned were supposed to be closed-mouth because the alternative is not even something he wants invading his nightmares.

“Yeah, and you know, generally covering for me when I go out.”

 _Ah, that’s what this is really about then_ , Ianto thinks. Yeah, it’s about the money too because that’s huge, but another part of it is that Jack doesn’t want to stop getting laid all summer by being stuck at home. And it isn’t like Ianto was even considering it anyway, but there is _definitely_ no way he’s wasting his summer covering for Jack’s illicit fucking. 

“Hmm,” Ianto says, tapping his finger against his chin in a mockery of consideration, “Well I have to say I don’t envy your position. But I’m afraid I’m going to have to pass Jack. I just don’t see myself wasting the next few months fielding calls from your mother while you stick your dick in anything that let’s you close enough.”

“Ianto, you have to,” Jack says and that puts Ianto’s hackles right back up. He’s not going to start taking orders from Jack.

“I don’t _have to_ anything,” he hisses, “As hard as it may be for you to understand I actually have a life of my own, and couldn’t care less about your parental issues.”

Jack’s face hardens and Ianto thinks for sure the conversation is over. He’s not sure when it happened, but somewhere along the way Jack must have opened up a bit because Ianto can see him closing down now. But Jack isn’t done, though his voice is cold and formal again when he speaks.

“I’ll make it worth your while,” he says, and Ianto laughs harshly.

“I’m not a prostitute, Jack.”

Jack sneers at him, “That’s obvious Ianto, because prostitutes have to actually unclench long enough to let someone fuck them.”

“Whatever, I’m done here.” Ianto rolls his eyes and drains the last of his coffee. When Jack reaches out this time, he flinches away in time to avoid another touch.

“Look just name your fucking price, Ianto, I’m begging you here,” Jack pleads. He’s let go of a little of the coldness and damn Ianto and his soft heart because he can’t help but hesitate.

“Anything, seriously name it and it’s yours,” Jack presses, sensing he’s got a foothold.

Ianto considers him, taking in the air of desperation, and his hand clenches tightly around the phone he’s holding. He knows desperation too.

There’s no way Jack is going to give him that much money, though, no way that an 18 year old kid just has five grand lying around – not even one as obscenely rich as Ianto knows Jack’s family is. So he might as well ask, because when Jack says no way it’ll just be one more reason to walk away.

“£5,000,” Ianto says, “I’ll do it for that.”

He knows he’s padding the cost of what he actually needs, but there’s no way he’d walk away from a summer of fake-dating Jack with just breaking even. He waits for the scoff, waits for Jack to tell him to get lost or forget the whole thing. But Jack doesn’t even flinch.

“Done,” he says without hesitation and Ianto knows he’s staring and his mouth is probably hanging open unattractively but he can’t help it. Who just says okay to £5,000 like it’s nothing?

“So I’ll pick you up on Friday night then, I’ll come by early so I can brief you on what you’ll need to know,” Jack is already saying and Ianto’s head is still spinning.

“Wait- just, god, just stop for a minute,” Ianto says when he’s able to find his tongue. “You do realise you just agreed to pay me £5,000 to fake date you for the summer right?”

“Yes?” Jack says, like he’s confused, “That’s what you asked for isn’t it?”

“I just… I don’t… Who have you even turned into?” Ianto asks, “Who just agrees to something like that?”

“Well apparently we do,” Jack smirks, “Because I’m pretty sure there are two of us in this thing Ianto.”

Ianto presses a hand to his forehead, feeling a headache coming on. “I didn’t think you’d agree to it,” he whispers and Jack _laughs_ at him.

“Well too bad for you,” he says, “Because I did, and now we’re in this. Unless you want to go back on your word.”

Ianto _does_ want to, he wants to tell Jack he can take his money and go to hell, but he also doesn’t want to be the guy who doesn’t uphold his end of a deal. And more than that, he really needs that money.

“No,” he manages, “No, I guess we’re in this.”

“Good,” Jack says, “Because I wasn’t sure how much longer I could stand here talking to you. But now that we’re agreed I can leave you to your pathetic life until Friday.”

“If we’re going to be boyfriends, you really should be nicer to me,” Ianto quips, but his heart isn’t in it. He mostly just wants to lay down and see if when he wakes up this all turns out to just be a wacky dream.

Jack laughs at him again. “I’m saving the nice up for the family. There’s only so much of you I can stand at once, and I’m all out for the day.”

Ianto just stares at him, feeling vaguely ill at the prospect of seeing that face once a week all summer long.

“Friday. Four o’clock,” Jack says, “Dinner isn’t until seven so that’ll give me time to tell you everything you ought to know if we’ve really been dating a month.”

“You’re going to brief me on our entire fake relationship in three hours?” Ianto asks incredulously.

“More than enough time,” Jack leers, “I think you’re mistaking me for your girlfriend. A relationship with me would be a whole lot less talking and a whole lot more fucking. As long as you can remember a few names and dates I think it’ll seem fairly accurate.”

Ianto shudders and pities anyone who ever actually decides to date the smarmy git.

“Fine, whatever, four o’clock,” he says, suddenly more than ready to be done with this for the day.

“See you then,” Jack confirms, with a wink that makes Ianto feel vaguely violated. 

Jack is almost to the door when he calls back, loudly, “Oh and Ianto? Try to wear something that isn't just jeans and a hoodie, yeah?”

Ianto glares at Jack, trying to will away the blush he knows is staining his cheeks. He has never hated Jack more.

Jack just smiles hugely and gives him a salute before heading out the door.

Ianto’s pride keeps him in his seat for another five minutes, so that when he leaves it doesn’t look like he’s fleeing. He drives home on autopilot, too tired to even worry anymore, and as soon as he’s there he collapses onto his bed, barely managing to kick off his shoes.

His last thought before he falls into a fitful sleep is _What have I gotten myself into?_

It won’t be the last time he has to ask himself that question.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope you enjoyed this, haha.
> 
> find me on twitter: @transjackianto


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack picks Ianto up for the dinner at his parents' house. They talk.

Friday comes around much too quickly for Ianto.

He had woken in a panicked state Thursday morning, the full gravity of the situation he had gotten into having fallen over him. When he had been forced to accept that, yes, he had agreed to fake-date Jack Harkness all summer, he'd considered maybe Jack had spiked his precious coffee after all.

There was nothing he could do about it now, anyway; he wouldn't go back on his word. After walking into the kitchen and seeing his mother fretting over bills, his resolve had all but disappeared. He couldn't be a burden on his family and ask for money to help him in his move to London. Maybe he could help out his dad more in the shop over the summer. Around his 'dates' with Jack Harkness, of course. God, how was he going to explain that to his parents?

Now that it was actually Friday and 4pm looming ever so closer, Ianto was wondering if there wasn't some merit in not going to London and just staying in Cardiff to save his money by working full-time in his father's shop. Could he really stay here?

He sighs heavily and pulls his phone out of his pocket to check over his recent texts for the hundredth time in the last two days.

He hasn’t been able to stop re-reading the last conversation, and he’s not sure why he keeps checking it, except that his traitor heart seems to somehow expect it to look different every time.

Thursday 11th June

**Ianto** (9:04 am) **:** _I know we aren’t supposed to be talking but I could really use some advice right now. I think I may have made a monumental mistake._

 **Lisa** (11:32 am) **:** _Ianto, part of this summer is about learning to go to other people instead of each other. If we want to make this a real separation we can’t come to each other for advice._

 **Ianto** (11:34 am): _I know, but I guess I thought I’d still have my friend. Please, I’m floundering here._

 **Lisa** (11:44 am): _You know if we start talking it isn’t going to feel like just friends._

 **Lisa** (11:45 am): _You aren’t hurt are you? Is it that kind of emergency?_

 **Ianto** (11:49 am): _No, nothing like that. It’s actually a Jack emergency, mixed in with some uni stuff and I really want to talk to you about it all. I feel like I got myself into a mess and I don’t even know how big it is yet. Can I call you?_

 **Lisa** (12:01 pm) **:** _I don’t want to be a bad person here Ianto._

 **Lisa** (12:03 pm): _But it’s important to me that we do this break-up the right way, and part of that is stepping back from each other’s lives for a while. So I don’t think calling would be a good idea._

 **Ianto** (12:07 pm): _I guess I didn’t realise there was a right way to do a break-up._

 **Lisa** (1:49 pm) **:** _You aren’t being fair. You know this is hard for me too._

 **Ianto** (1:50 pm) **:** _Fine. I won’t call._

 **Lisa** (2:12 pm) **:** _Don’t hate me. I’m trying to do what’s best for us._

 **Ianto** (2:29 pm) **:** _I couldn’t hate you even if I wanted to._

 **Lisa** (2:31 pm) **:** _Ianto, please don’t make this even harder._

 **Ianto** (2:33 pm) **:** _It’s fine, you’re right. I’ll talk to you in August._

 **Lisa** (2:34 pm) **:** _Thank you. I’m sorry._

 **Ianto** (2:57 pm) **:** _Me too._

It's still just as unsatisfying the hundredth time he read it, as it had been the first time around. There's no magic cure jumping out at him, and if anything, it depresses him further. Somehow in all the worry about losing his girlfriend, he had not even thought of going a whole two months without his best friend too. Now two days into their separation and he's missing Lisa already like a missing limb.

There really isn't anyone else he can talk about this with either. All of his other friends would never understand why he would ever help Jack Harkness. Not with their history.

He can't exactly tell any of them why he had agreed either. Considering how much his friends like gossip, the news of his exam troubles would get back to Rhiannon, and Rhiannon would be sure to tell their mother to try and get him to see sense and to stay home next year. He knew for a fact he had screwed up his exams. He couldn't let his mother feel guilt over his distracted mind. So no, he can't talk to anyone about it except for Lisa, but it seems that Lisa isn't going to be an option either, which means he's in this alone.

At least he's home alone this evening: his parents had taken a holiday to visit his dad's parents in the Beacons and Rhiannon is out with Johnny, so there will be no witnesses to Jack picking him up for what is essentially a date, even if it was all a lie. Ianto isn't quite sure how he's going to explain this all to his parents. Plus, there's the wedding in London at the end of August, and he will have to tell _someone_ where he's disappearing to.

But at least he has a few more days to figure out what he's going to explain to his parents as they weren't due back until next Friday, which means that his nerves and worry can focus fully on just surviving the evening without wanting to strangle Jack in front of his parents. He's pretty sure that that would blow a hole in the story of them being boyfriends.

He checks his outfit one more time and deems it passable. He had been tempted to wear one of his more gothic outfits just to get back at Jack for his parting comment. That would surely shock his parents and piss Jack off. But in the end, he had gone for a red fitted shirt, smart black slim-fit jeans and some black ankle boots. Though he doesn't care much about what Jack thinks of him, he hadn't seen Jack's parents in years, and he was nervous to see them again. They had always been so kind.

He's currently sitting on the sofa in his living room, his black jacket thrown over the back, and his keys, phone and wallet all safely tucked into his pockets. The only thing missing is his 'date' who is currently running nearly forty minutes late.

He can't even call to find out where Jack is, as he's realised he doesn't actually have the other boy's number. It's one of many things on the list he's been constructing all day of things that need sorting out if they are going to make this whole boyfriend thing believable.

Fifteen minutes later and Ianto is just about ready to say screw it and go and see if Tosh wants to head to the shopping centre for sushi and a film, because Jack is obviously standing him up, when there's a knock at the door.

He grabs his jacket and opens it to find Jack leaning against the frame smirking at him, and he has to fight the urge to slam it closed again immediately. It's going to be a long summer.

"You're late," Ianto says coolly, brushing past Jack and closing the door behind him. There's no way he's inviting Jack into his house; they can talk in the car.

"Well, you know, people to do, things to see," Jack drawls, falling into step beside Ianto as he walks towards the pavement.

"You're disgusting," Ianto spits. "And next time, I'm not gonna be sitting around and waiting. If you want this to work, then you show up on time, otherwise don't expect me to be here."

"Jesus, Ianto, I was only half an hour late," Jack says. "Are you this whiny to Lisa when she doesn't show up on time?"

"You were nearly an _hour_ late," Ianto corrects. "And Lisa always shows up on time."

"Of course she does," Jack scoffs. "You probably open the fucking car door for her too, huh?"

Jack very pointedly moves around the car to the driver's side without touching the passenger side door, smirking. As if Ianto would even want his door held open by Jack.

"I am so fucking glad that we aren't actually dating," Jack groans. "You're bitchy enough as a fake boyfriend, and I bet you'd be worse as a real one. How the fuck Hallett put up with you for so long, I'll never know. I refuse to believe you're that good in the sack."

"Unlike _some people_ , Lisa actually appreciates manners," Ianto snips back, climbing into the car. "And I'm not talking about my sex life with you. You share enough about yours for the both of us."

Jack rolls his eyes in response, and then he's pulling away from the kerb before Ianto can even finish buckling his seatbelt. Ianto kind of wants to bitch at him for that too but he's distracted by the fact that this is the third time in as many minutes that Lisa's name has been mentioned. It hurts to hear it, and also has Ianto worrying about whether he's going to be required to come clean about the fact that he and Lisa aren't actually dating anymore.

Despite the fact that he really wants to steer the conversation away from his ex, talking about Lisa has made him remember one of the items on his 'need to know' list.

"Speaking of Lisa, though," he starts, and hopes Jack doesn't notice how tight his voice has become. "How is it that you haven't been worried about your parents knowing about my girlf- about her."

He grits his teeth over the stumble, and again hopes Jack remains oblivious. As much as he'd like to be able to call Lisa his girlfriend, it isn't the truth anymore. Besides, there's a very good chance that Jack is going to figure out the truth of his situation with Lisa at some point this summer, and if Ianto was continued calling Lisa his girlfriend, then Jack would never let him hear the end of it.

"Why would they have any idea who you're dating? Other than me, of course," Jack adds, but he sounds genuinely confused.

"Because they hang out with the Halletts?" Ianto asks. "It might have come up in conversation for all I know."

Jack laughs meanly. "So many things wrong with that sentence," he says. "Not the least of which is that you actually think who _you_ screw is worthy of dinner party small talk. Plus, my parents and the Halletts? Let's just say that there's no love lost between them."

"What?" Now it's Ianto's turn to sound confused. "But Lisa always said..."

"I can guess what 'Lisa always said,'" Jack interrupts. "Doesn't make it true."

"Lisa wouldn't lie to me!" Ianto insists.

"And I'm not saying she would," Jack says, speaking as if Ianto is being dense. "But I can pretty much guarantee she doesn't have the whole story."

Ianto waits quietly while Jack merges onto the main road towards the nicer side of the city, but even once they're at a steady speed, Jack doesn't seem like he's going to elaborate.

"So what's the story?" Ianto asks. When Jack looks like he's considering holding out just to annoy Ianto, he adds, "I should probably know, don't you think? So I don't accidentally say something at dinner that gives away the fact that I don't really know you anymore except for the fact that you wear far too much aftershave."

"Never wear any," Jack volleys back, but Ianto just smirks.

"Oh, you smell like that naturally? Well, that makes sense, at least. I was wondering where you found something that smelled like bottled sleaze."

"And here I was about to tell you the story," Jack sighs exaggeratedly. "But, if you're gonna be mean to me..."

It is exactly the right tactic to use against Ianto, damn his curiosity. He hates that Jack remembers that much about him. God only knows how bad this whole thing is going to be by the end of summer.

"Just tell me," he insists sullenly.

"Nope," Jack teases. "Not until you say you're sorry. Jeez, Ianto, you sure are a mean boyfriend."

"I'm not your boyfriend," Ianto spits back from between gritted teeth.

"Tonight you are," Jack says, and Ianto tries to determine how hard it would be to leap from the car at the speed they're travelling without hurting himself... much.

"Fine," he snarls, giving in eventually. "I'm sorry. Will you tell me now?"

Jack grins at him, and for a minute, Ianto thinks he's not going to talk until Ianto begs, but Jack surprisingly doesn't push it.

"There, was that so hard?" When Ianto just glares at him, his smile widens. "I suppose since I'm such an _amazing_ boyfriend, I can tell you."

Ianto bites back every insult on the tip of his tongue and waits patiently. This story better be fucking epic.

"Well, it all started a long time ago, in a galaxy far far away..." Jack starts, laughing when Ianto smacks him.

“Come on, seriously just tell me,” Ianto grumps, though he’s smiling a little himself (but only on the inside, he’s not about to let Jack know he finds _anything_ about this entire evening entertaining).

“Okay, god, abusive much?” Jack says, still laughing. “It did start a long time ago, though, back when Gray was in sixth form. So, a quick family run down, just to get the players straight, yeah?” He darts a swift look at Ianto before focusing back on the road. If Ianto didn’t know better, he’d think Jack was almost a little nervous about sharing with him. Ianto just nods and settles back into the leather seat. “Suffice it to say that the Harkness name is kind of a big deal in Scotland. I guess you could call us ‘old money,’ though you wouldn't say that in polite company. My dad is the eldest son in the empire at the moment, though given his increasingly left wing political leanings, who knows if Grandad will try to disinherit him. Anyway, there’s my parents, my two older siblings and me. Gray is the oldest, though not by much. He and River are what you’d call Irish twins.”

When Ianto just looked confused, Jack smiles in a way that Ianto knows means he’s about to be crude.

“It means they were born less than a year apart. Let’s just say Mum and Dad were very busy celebrating their marriage back in 1994.”

“Oh,” Ianto says, fighting off the heat that rises to his cheeks. It’s just something about Jack though, that makes even the vaguest references to sex seem somehow ten times dirtier.

Before his face starts to cool, Ianto does some quick mental maths and is completely distracted from his embarrassment by the realisation that Jack isn’t just the youngest, he’s the youngest by a lot. He hadn't really thought much about it when they were kids. Jack's older siblings were just 'old,' like everyone is 'old' to young children.

“Wait, so your brother is-"

“Twenty-six, yep,” Jack cuts him off, anticipating, “And River is almost twenty-five.”

Ianto opens his mouth to ask another question and pauses, unsure of how you ask someone why were they born so much later than their siblings without it sounding tacky. 

Finally he settles on a vague, “So you…”

“Were a mistake,” Jack says wryly, “Though my mum prefers the word ‘surprise.'”

Ianto's cheeks warm again, this time embarrassed for having brought up something perhaps better left alone, but Jack just shrugs like it doesn’t bother him.

"It's fine, I know you were wondering."

Ianto shrugs back, avoiding Jack's eyes and searches for a way to get the conversation back on track.

"You mentioned Gray being in school..." he mentions finally, thinking about what it had to do with the Halletts. "Was he there when Mickey and Ricky went?"

Jack smiles at him like he just picked the right door on a game show, and Ianto hates that he gets a tiny little thrill at having apparently done well.

"Ding ding ding, give the boy a prize," Jack says. "That, my dear, is the simple thing upon which the Hallett-Harkness feud hinges. He did in fact go to school with the twins and was one year ahead of them. They were all friends too, for a while."

"Why just for a while?" Ianto asks, but Jack tuts at him.

"Now, now, no jumping ahead. The first thing you need to know is that if the Harknesses are what would be considered 'old money,' the Halletts are 'new money,' having only come into their relative wealth a generation ago. It sounds dramatic to say it, but that stuff matters to some people in the circles our families run in."

"Does it matter to you?" Ianto can't help but ask.

"No," Jack says immediately, and then grins again. "Would I really be dating you if it did?"

"You aren't dating me, though." Ianto feels the need to point that out.

"Fine, but I wouldn't be fake dating you either," Jack amends. "That stuff doesn't matter to my family, or to me beyond enjoying all the things my wealth can buy me, but it is important to the Halletts."

Ianto hums an acknowledgement, trying to tie this new knowledge in with the Halletts he knows from dating Lisa. The truth is that he doesn't really know anything about them, besides how they relate to Lisa. Lisa never seemed elitist though, and he wonders if maybe Jack is exaggerating things - or if Lisa was just that much out of tune with her parents. The sad thing is that he wouldn't be surprised if it was the latter, Lisa hardly ever interacted with her own parents as far as Ianto knew.

But enough with thinking about Lisa. Ianto chastised himself for letting his mind wander back to her. For the summer at least, he had to think of other things or he'd never survive.

"So the Halletts were, what? Glad that the twins had befriended someone of status?" Ianto asks instead and is rewarded with another approving smile.

"Got it in one again, Jones, I'm surprised. I thought for sure all that coffee you drink might have killed most of your brain cells by now."

Ianto flips him off and gets another laugh.

"Yes, the Halletts were thrilled," Jack continues when he's stopped chuckling. "Not that Ricky, Mickey or Gray cared about that stuff, at least according to Gray. They were all on the football team and shared a love for pranks and inappropriate jokes, and it was easy to see why they became best friends."

Ianto thinks about the times he's met Ricky. The description Jack is giving him definitely fits, and Ianto is suddenly intensely looking forward to meeting Gray. Ianto doesn't know Ricky too well, but well enough to know he likes him and that he's a good judge of character. He hasn't really met Mickey who moved to London, met his girlfriend and never looked back. If Ricky and Gray got along so well, maybe the man will prove to be just as likeable - unlike his little brother.

"It was all going swimmingly, monthly calls from the headteacher's office about prank wars not-withstanding," Jack says, and he's definitely in storyteller mode now, his voice vibrant and stringing Ianto along for the ride, "and would have continued to do so if their football coach had just stayed in his office going over paperwork like usual that day in May."

"What happened?" Ianto asks, and he is dimly aware that his voice has gotten a little breathless with excitement but he can't help it, Jack knows how to spin a tale.

"He caught Gray and Ricky kissing."

Ianto just stares, stunned, for several long minutes. Jack is grinning like a cheshire cat, obviously thrilled at having shocked Ianto to silence.

"What happened to them?" he finally asked after a long silence.

"The gossip mill hit overdrive, and our parents found out. It was a huge scandal, I mean being 'gay' was even less accepted a decade ago, you know?" Jack says making air-quotes around the word, and the look he gives Ianto is one of inclusive understanding and disappointment with the world. Ianto realises that even though they may not like each other, the both of them are in the same boat as far as the world sees them. Apparently that is enough for a camaraderie with Jack.

"The Halletts freaked out, accused Gray of corrupting their son and pulled Ricky out of school," Jack continues. "Gray was heartbroken, Ricky got shipped off to military school for his final year, and as far as I know, they haven't talked since. And there's been bad blood between the Halletts and Harknesses for nearly eight years because of it all."

Ianto bites his lip, playing with imaginary lint on his jeans.

"You know, I never did ask what Lisa thinks of this whole arrangement," Jack presses. "Us fake dating and all. I can't imagine it was something she accepted easily.

Ianto shrugs, and breathes evenly through his nose to keep from panicking. "It's not like you and I are actually dating," he hedges. "So, it's not a big deal."

"Why do I find that hard to believe?" Jack counters, "I may not know your precious girlfriend as well as you do, but Lisa doesn't seem the type to want to share, even if it's just pretend."

"Not really her business," Ianto mumbles, praying to a god he doesn't believe in that Jack will drop it.

Apparently, belief is a big part of having your prayers answered, or so Ianto assumes, because his aren't.

"Not her business?" Jack asks incredulously. "Jesus, you'd think you were broken up from all the consideration you're giving her feelings."

"Yeah, well, things change." Ianto mumbles bitterly.

"Oh really?" Jack asks. "So if you don't run your dates by her anymore-"

"Fake dates," Ianto corrects viciously.

" _Fake dates_ ," Jack repeats. "Then does that mean she's allowed to 'fake-date' too? Because if so I may just find myself in need of another fake girlfriend for a few nights this summer."

And that hurts, so much more than Ianto wants it to. It hurts because it reminds him that Lisa is gone (a pain still fresh after only two days). It hurts because it makes him think about the fact that Lisa can go on _real dates_ with anyone she wants now. And it hurts because, no matter how much he hates to admit it, it is one more reminder that Lisa is more desirable. It’s not that Ianto wants Jack to want him (god, the thought alone makes him want to throw up), but it’s a reminder that Jack _does_ want Lisa. That he would seek Lisa out as a fake girlfriend, whereas circumstance and poor forethought have simply saddled him with Ianto. Ianto is so so tired of feeling like he’s not enough, even to someone like Jack.

To his horror, he feels his eyes burning. He pinches the inside of his thigh to stop the tears, because that is something he will not allow Jack to see.

Since it seems that the truth is on its way out sooner than later, he also decides he might as well put it all out there himself.

"Lisa can date whoever she wants," he spits out, still staring out of the window so that Jack won't be able to see his red eyes. "Good luck scoring that date from over three-thousand miles away though."

"What?" Jack sounds so surprised that Ianto can't help but look back over. The confusion on Jack's face is so comical that it almost makes the pain of the conversation worth it. At least Ianto doesn't feel like crying much anymore.

"Lisa's in New York for the summer," Ianto says. "She won't be back until the end of August."

Jack is side-eyeing him, but Ianto doesn't care what Jack thinks.

"If this is just some ploy to keep me away from your girl, it's not very well thought out. It's not like I can't drop by and see if she's around."

"Please do," Ianto snips. "After what you've just told me, I'm sure the Halletts would love to see you."

Jack frowns and keeps looking at Ianto until he's forced to return his eyes back to the road ahead.

"Is she really in America?"

Ianto rolls his eyes. "That's what I said."

"You don't have to bite my head off," Jack mutters. "Sorry I find it hard to believe that your perfect girl would leave her boyfriend for the summer, especially since it's your last summer before uni."

Ianto sighs. "You and me both, though, technically she didn't leave her boyfriend that is."

He's not sure why he's volunteering this information, really. He's been avoiding thinking about this since it happened. He guesses it has just finally got to the point where it hurts more to hide it than it does to say it.

"What?" Jack says again, and Ianto would enjoy being able to fluster Jack so much if the whole situation didn't hurt so much. "You... did you dump her?"

Ianto isn't sure why, but he feels strangely flattered that Jack assumed he's the one that ended it.

"Not exactly," he admits. "Look, I really don't wanna talk about it."

Jack is still sneaking looks at him whenever he can move his eyes from the road, and Ianto would criticise his driving and complain about not wanting to die before his eighteenth birthday, but he's feeling like he might cry again and so opening his mouth is probably not the best idea.

He's sure that Jack is gonna push anyway. There's no way that Jack is compassionate enough to let him stop the line of questioning.

Jack surprises him, though. He doesn't push. He doesn't bring Lisa up for the rest of the drive. He does keep sneaking those looks at him, and looks like he's trying to see what makes him tick. Ianto concentrates on the road ahead and closes his face off, looking blank.

The rest of the drive is a mix of awkward silence mixed with animated conversation around those 'dating facts' Ianto needs to know.

By the time they reach Jack's house, Ianto knows they've apparently been dating since the 8th of May, their first date was to a lovely French restaurant. (Ianto had assumed it would be something like sushi as it's simple and easy, but then he remembers Jack is allergic to shellfish... Ianto's a forgetful idiot.)

Ianto already knows sibling names and his parents' names, and that River's fiancée Jodie's surname is Smith. Jack doesn't elaborate too much, tells him that if they were 'really dating', they wouldn't have found much time to over-share about their families by now. ('Too much fucking,' he insists. 'Not so much talking.' Ianto pushes down his nausea and distaste, promises himself that no matter what Jack may think, he's not going to let the Harknesses' first impression since he last saw them as a child, make him seem like some long term hook-up.) Jack has absolutely no interest in hearing about Ianto's family ('I know all I need to know about them from what little I remember from juniors.' Ianto secretly agrees, his life hasn't changed much.)

By the time they're pulling up to Jack's home, Ianto has his tears and hurt in lockdown. When Jack shoots him an appraising look and then a tiny smile, he wonders if that was the boy's intention the entire time. If so, it is just one more sign that Jack may be human after all, and capable of empathy, which will never stop feeling strange.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was a beast to write and they only just got to jack's house lol
> 
> thank you to my cheerleader temporalsilence, princessoftheworlds for beta'ing this and the JMH chat for their support :)
> 
> twitter: @transjackianto


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ianto arrives at the Harkness household and meets the family. It's not what he expected.

Ianto's memories of the Harkness estate were pretty blurry, if he were being honest. It had been around five years since he had last been here. It's not like he had forgotten how rich Jack was. But the sight of the house in front of him took his breath away.

They pull up to a wrought iron gate which Jack opens with a press of a button on a key fob, Ianto's eyes roaming over the front of a deceptively-small house (the left side of the house came forward in an 'L' shape which you wouldn't notice from a head-on view). They pull further into a private gravel drive-way, his eyes flickering to the right, past Jack where a road leads down and around the house and further into the property.

The house itself is a fairly large size, a beautiful white building. In the just-falling dusk of the evening, the glow of light from the various lamps hanging around the entrance to the drive and the few windows he can see only makes it more beautiful, giving it a warm, inviting air. Thinking back to his own small, modest terraced home he lives in, this feels like a dream.

The memories being brought to the surface just at the sight of the property fill Ianto with a warm glow. He already likes the house too much for something that belongs in any way to Jack.

"You know you're doe-eyed enough as it is; the ogling isn't really helping you out," Jack teases. Ianto wants to argue but he's pretty sure ogling is exact what he's doing. For what he couldn't see, his memory brought up images of the sprawling grounds that include a pool, various outbuildings, stables and uninterrupted views.

"Whatever," he mutters instead and settles back in his seat. He can't stop staring, but he tries to do it a bit more discreetly.

Jack pulls into an empty slot in front of the house, off to the left of the main building, in front of a window.

A million questions and worries run through Ianto's mind, because now that the shock of the memories flooding back to him has worn off, he's realising that they are here and in a few minutes time, he's going to be expected to play the role of Jack's boyfriend in a house full of people he hasn't seen in years. He feels suddenly and completely unprepared, knows nothing as surely as the fact that he's going to screw this up. How had they ever thought they could pull this off?

"Listen," Jack starts, sounding just as on edge as Ianto, which really isn't helping Ianto's nerves. Jack doesn't get a chance to finish though, because in Ianto's panicked, illogical search for the nearest exits, his eyes have just lit upon something that distracts him from his fears completely.

"Oh my god," he exhales, voice almost reverent, and he's already climbing out of the car before Jack even realises he's moving.

They are parked next to one of the most beautiful cars Ianto has ever seen, and even if the whole rest of the night goes to shit, he is totally and completely sure it will be worth it just for having seen this.

"You have an Aston Martin," he sighs. "I can't believe you have a Bond car."

Jack has joined him, arms crossed almost defensively. His face is still open, though. "Yeah, so?"

"So?" Ianto says scornfully. "So? Are you shitting me? This thing is gorgeous. Why the hell are you driving _that_ when you have a Bond car in your driveway?" He gestures towards Jack's, admittedly still very nice, Range Rover as if Jack has committed some kind of mortal sin. Truthfully, that's a fair description of what it is to ignore a car like the one in front of him as far as Ianto is concerned.

Jack is still smirking at him like Ianto is putting on a particularly entertaining show.

"Well, three reasons actually," he says eventually when it becomes clear Ianto actually wants an answer. "One, it's Dad's car; two, I can actually drive mine easier around the grounds; and three, mine's black." He cocks a thumb back at his car with a huge smile, as if that's the best reason of them all. Ianto isn't sure he's ever judged Jack more harshly, which is really saying something.

"You- I... I don't even know how to respond to that," Ianto splutters.

Jack laughs and shrugs as if it doesn't matter to him at all what Ianto thinks, which it probably doesn't.

Ianto ignores him, turning back to the car in question and just staring for a minute, eyes drinking up all the details, and then skating his hand over the lines of it - being sure to keep his palm a good inch above the actual car itself. He just wants to absorb the magnificence, and he's not risking fingerprints.

Jack laughs again, and Ianto is starting to really be irked by the sound, mostly because it always seems to be directed at him.

"You know it isn't the Mona Lisa or anything," Jack tells him, chuckling. "You can actually touch it, it's just a car."

Ianto is about to lecture Jack on all the ways that 'just a car' is an inadequate description for the vehicle in question but Jack shocks all the words out of him by jumping up unceremoniously to sit heavily on the hood, making the entire frame bounce and shake. Ianto is pretty sure he's about to have a heart attack.

"You can't just do that!" he exclaims, already trying to tug Jack off. "Do you understand what you're jumping on? This isn't just some shitty car!"

"Relax, jeez," Jack teases. "I'm not going to break it."

"It isn't about breaking it, though, with the added weight of your enormous ego, I might actually worry about that, too," Ianto snaps. "It's about respecting the beauty of it, and not just flinging yourself on top of it like some cheap pinup model!"

Jack's expression shifts suddenly and Ianto worries that maybe he's gone too far, but then he sees Jack actually staring behind him.

"You know, son. I think I remembered why I always liked him."

Ianto swallows heavily and pivots to find Franklin Harkness standing behind them wearing a familiar, if slightly warmer, smirk.

"Mr. Harkness," he manages, running through the last few minutes of conversation and wondering if he's dug himself into a hole already. So much for impressions.

Franklin, however, seems nothing more than amused. The smirk morphs into a genuine smile as he steps closer, holding a hand out for Ianto to shake.

"What's this Mr. Harkness nonsense? Call me Franklin, please," he says as Ianto shakes the proffered hand. "It's good to see you again, Ianto. You've really grown into a handsome young man.

Ianto fights back the blush that he can feel creeping up his cheeks. Like father, like son. Damn, that Harkness charm. 

"It's good to see you, again, sir," he manages in a much calmer voice, though he can still feel some heat in his cheeks. "I'm sorry about, um, I was just-"

Franklin laughs kindly and waves off Ianto's attempt at an apology. "Nothing to apologise for, I appreciate a person who understands the beauty of a good car, lord knows none of my own children do. They all seem to have their heads in the clouds dreaming about airplanes. Your Dad has a love of cars if I remember correctly?"

Ianto's smile widens at the praise. "I blame my addiction with James Bond, if I'm being honest, sir." The mention of his father sobers him up a bit. "That's right."

"Well, we'll all have to get together some time, I'd be happy to show him around the cars. It has been a long time since I last saw your parents properly," Franklin concludes, and Ianto keeps smiling even though he can't picture explaining to his Dad that he's dating Jack let alone inviting him out to the Harkness estate for a 're-connection with the potential in-laws' type of deal - which is exactly what Franklin seems to be suggesting.

"I'm sure he'd love that," he hedges, and then promises himself he will screen all phone calls for the rest of the summer to stop Dad from getting the unexpected invitation should Franklin actually call him up.

Jack has finally slid off the car and moved up to stand with them, and Ianto is amused to see him fidgeting slightly as if he's not entirely comfortable with any of this either. He's definitely enjoying seeing the discomfort on Jack's normally composed face.

Franklin considers his son for a moment and seems to come to some conclusion, though Ianto can't tell for the life of him what it is.

"Well, boys," he says finally. "I just came out to tell you not to dawdle too long; your mother almost has dinner on the table. You'll have to save the grand tour for later."

"Sure," Jack says, voice steady, not betraying any nerves he might be feeling. "I don't think Ianto cares about a tour anyway. I'm sure he remembers where everything is. I'm pretty sure there's only one room in the house he'd be interested in revisiting, and if you've seen one bedroom, you've seen them all, right, babe?"

He's smirking again now, and when his meaning sinks in, Ianto's blush blooms bright once more. He'd been so distracted by the sudden nickname, it's taken a few seconds for him to realise that Jack has just told his father that Ianto is only interested in his bedroom, oh god.

Franklin doesn't seem bothered by the insinuation, but neither does he seem to take it too seriously much to Ianto's relief.

"Come on now, Jack; don't try to embarrass Ianto just because you're nervous about him seeing everyone," he chides gently. "I know you've never done this before, but generally when you bring someone home to meet the parents, the idea is to make sure they're comfortable, not mortified."

Jack shrugs and looks slightly apologetic at least, but Ianto can hardly be bothered to be surprised by that. He is much too busy processing the 'you've never done this before' to appreciate Jack looking sorry for the second time in their sordid history.

 _He's never brought someone home before_ , Ianto thinks. _Sure, maybe to fuck, but never to meet the parents, never as a **partner**_.

He's not sure why he's so surprised but he is, and he's also feeling as if this entire evening is suddenly much more important than he'd initially assumed. Fake relationship or not, he is now forever going to be the very first person Jack Harkness ever brought home to meet the family.

Either Jack doesn't care about the significance of the event, or he's hiding his emotions well. Ianto wouldn't be surprised to find that either was true - and maybe it's a bit of both.

Franklin smiles at them both one more time. "Well, I'll leave you two for a few minutes, but don't take too long, okay? I remember my own misspent youth well enough to know the appeal of a car's backseat, and your mother will throw a fit if tea goes cold."

With that, he shoots them a conspiratorial wink and heads back up to the house. Ianto tries desperately to convince himself that Jack's father didn't just imply that he was leaving them alone for a quickie before tea. Jack's own smirk isn't helping him pretend.

"He seems nice," Ianto says; his memories of Franklin were a distant memory of warm smiles and a man who would always be around to praise them whenever they did something well. Innuendo aside, which is definitely a trait shared between father and son, it's true.

"Whatever," Jack says, with a dismissive lift of his chin and looking a bit sulky. "I told you he liked you."

Ianto's lips lift in a small smile, his gaze softening at the recognition of a bit of nervous posturing in Jack. If the rest of the evening can continue like this, then Ianto thinks he might actually survive it and live to tell the tale.

"Shall we?" he asks, holding out a hand to Jack when it seems the other boy might just be content to sulk in the driveway rather than see Ianto get along with his family.

Jack stares at the outstretched hand for a long moment before marching past Ianto, blatantly ignoring it as he strides towards the front door.

"Are you coming?" he calls back, tone hard again now that they have no audience to play for.

When they reach the door, Jack pauses for a moment, taking a deep breath as if to steel himself to enter the lion's den. Ianto's own nerves flare back to life, but he's not going to let it show. Ianto Jones can be one hell of an actor when he wants to be.

A few seconds later, Jack is pushing open the door and gesturing Ianto inside. He can hear the clamour of voices from a room further inside the house and is immediately enveloped in the warmth of light and laughter.

Jack closes the door behind them and pushes Ianto forward with a hand against the small of his back. Just before they step down the stairs and into the living room, he leans forward and whispers in Ianto's ear.

"Don't screw this up."

Ianto stomps hard on Jack's foot in retaliation and puts on his biggest smile when he hears Jack cursing behind him.

\-----

Ianto still isn't sure what he expected the rest of the Harknesses to be like, but by the time dinner is over and they are all lingering at the table over dessert and coffee, he is sure that all of those expectations have been blown out of the window.

In a way, he thinks, the Harknesses are a lot like their house - warm and welcoming where they could have easily been cold or imposing if they'd been anything less than exactly what they are.

They welcome him back into the fold easily, engaging him in discussion without ever making him feel like he's being put on the spot, and displaying real interest in whatever he has to say. They tease him as familiarly as they tease each other, poking at him playfully for dating Jack (Ianto nearly loses it when Franklin does in fact bring up brainwashing as 'the only explanation for my son bringing home a boy who is clearly out of his league.') Ianto can't remember the last time he laughed and smiled so much and actually meant it.

In the few hours they spend together over the meal, Ianto realises that they've made him feel more welcome and at ease than the Halletts managed in the year and a half he was dating their daughter. The thought sobers him somewhat from where he's been caught up in the whirlwind of happiness and real sense of family that the Harknesses present.

They are enchanting as a family, but individually they are fascinating too, each simultaneously different from the others and yet also the same, like unique pieces of a coherent puzzle. Ianto finds himself just as enamoured with them as they seem to be with him.

Jack's mother, Elizabeth as she'd insisted on being called, is every inch the benevolent matriarch, mothering all her children to within an inch of their lives but doing it with so much love and honest affection that none of them can work up much disgruntlement. Franklin laughs loudly and teases just as often, rolling his eyes at his wife's antics but looking at her with such open adoration that Ianto frequently has to avert his eyes because he feels like he's intruding on something intimate and private. He'd never really noticed this much as a child, but he can't remember the last time his parents looked at each other in that way.

Jack's siblings are nothing like Ianto has imagined either, and yet now that he's got to know that he can't picture them having ever been any other way. River is sweet, sassy and smart in equal measure, keeping up with the boys insult for insult and joke for joke, and then in the next instant tossing her light curls (definitely inherited from her mother, where the boys have both gotten their father's dark hair) and smiling at her fiancée with a look so loving that Ianto almost felt envious. Jodie is much more excitable than the Harkness clan, enthusiastically talking with her hands and telling wild stories, but with one touch from her wife-to-be calms down to return her loving looks.

Ianto learns rather quickly, as River insists that he sit near her, that she and Jodie met in university on their first day when they found out they were hall neighbours. They became fast friends despite Jodie studying Physics and River studying Ancient History and Archaeology. The two of them did not start dating until they started doing their PhDs, but they would not have it any way. River admitted that she wouldn't have appreciated their relationship as much if they hadn't been best friends first.

When she learns that Ianto is heading to London to study Archaeology in September, she immediately begins regaling him with tales of the city. For a few minutes, as she's detailing all the museums she wants to take Ianto to once he gets to the city, Ianto manages to forget that such plans are ultimately just fantasy - that he and Jack aren't really dating and by the time he heads to the city in September their fake relationship will be over and he'll probably never see River again.

Then there is Gray. Gray who's an artist. Gray who spent two semesters at the Royal College of Art, and half a year at the Glasgow School of Art. Gray who once lived in Germany for six months and travelled through Europe for the rest of the year. Gray who is a bizarre combination of engaging and aloof. Gray who apparently used to kiss Ricky. Gray who is devastatingly gorgeous.

By the end of dinner, Ianto's pretty sure he's a little in love. If the looks Jack keeps shooting him are any indication (glares and hard glances), he hasn't been too subtle about it either.

The thing is, it isn't even that Gray is lovely to look at - though he most definitely it. Hell, if it came down to looks, Ianto would have to grudgingly admit to himself that he finds Jack slightly more attractive than his brother. And it isn't even that he's attracted to Gray, not in a sexual or romantic way. It's that the man is so completely different from anyone that Ianto has ever encountered, and he can't help but be drawn to that.

More than any of them though, what fascinates Ianto the most is Jack himself. They've been forced to sit at opposite ends of the table from each other, so the pressure to display any of the physical things that come with dating is lessened. Conversation is never at a stand-still within the group, and if he wanted to, Ianto could probably pretend that Jack didn't exist at all for a while. Yet all through the meal, Ianto catches himself staring across the table at the boy who is suddenly more of an enigma than ever.

Jack is, it seems to Ianto, both more and less himself here; or at least the self that Ianto is acquainted with. He is still snide comments and teasing nicknames, he still makes more references to his sex life than Ianto wants to think about, and he still acts with a sense of ego and assurity that constantly surprises, irks (and, admittedly, slightly impresses) Ianto. But his edges are somehow softened too. His jokes are fond instead of cruel; his nicknames lack some of the offensive edge he always imbues them with when they're directed at Ianto. It is very obvious, watching him interact with everyone around him, that Jack loves his family and feels confident that they love him in return.

Ianto isn't sure why he expected it to be different, but knows that somehow he did. Maybe he is projecting too much of his own childhood and family issues onto Jack. He wonders if he will ever be able to look at Jack quite the same way after tonight, and if not (probably not, definitely not) if that is a good thing or a dangerous thing. He hasn't been able to make up his mind by the time they're finishing their coffee, and he finds himself feeling more nervous about the ride home with the boy across the table than he felt about the entire Harkness family visit.

It was much easier when Jack was just the villain in Ianto's story. Ianto is not sure how to deal with his own personal demon slowly but surely being humanised right before his eyes.

Ianto is distracted from such dangerous thoughts by a hand on his arm. He turns to see Elizabeth smiling at him and can't help but smile back. He thinks she and his mother would get along splendidly.

"Ianto, you have to come with us to the club on Sunday," she says, and he knows that it isn't just a polite invitation. She genuinely seems to want to include him.

"The club?" he asks, a little confused and stalling for time. He and Jack haven't talked about any future 'dates,’ having just been focused on getting through tonight, and he's not quite sure what he's supposed to do here. It is surprisingly difficult to walk the line between fake boyfriend and real boyfriend, and he doesn't know what Jack wants him to say.

"The country club," Gray explains, rolling his eyes as if such things are the epitome of 'lame,’ but he's smiling nonetheless. "Jodie and River are playing in some couples tournament and are forcing the entire family to come and cheer them on."

"Oh, um," Ianto stutters looking desperately at Jack for some clue as to what he should say. If Ianto were being honest, he didn't even know that these clubs existed in the UK, he has memories of watching the High School Musical films as a kid, and tries not to wince at the pomp and fanfare of them in that. Jack is giving him some sort of frantic signal with his eyes, but Ianto can't, for the life of him, figure out if it means 'you have to say yes!' or 'don't you dare say yes!'

"Of course Ianto has to come," River adds, smirking at Jack. "He's practically family now, isn't he, Jack?"

Jack turns his glare on his sister, and that one is much easier to read, but it doesn't help Ianto out at all.

"I don't know..." he hedges, and Elizabeth is already making displeased sounds at that.

"Yes, Ianto, you should definitely come," Jack finally speaks up, his tone heavy with more hints that Ianto can't decipher. "Unless you have other plans?"

It is all mixed signals and more pressure than Ianto wants to deal with. He is desperately wishing that they could rewind to the ease of a few minutes ago, or better yet to this afternoon when he and Jack should have taken the time to make a plan for eventualities such as this. Everyone is staring at him, waiting for an answer, and finally he chooses a path in exasperation.

"Um, okay? I mean, I don't have any other plans..." Ianto begins, trailing off when Jack's glare intensifies.

Apparently, he chose wrong, but that's hardly his fault, and the damage is done now in either case. He glares back when the family's attention shifts away, and he's pretty sure the look he gets from Jack is now bordering on murderous.

Everyone besides Jack at least seems pleased with his answer and they're already discussing times and transport. Ianto drops his eyes to the tablecloth when he's afraid the anger on his face is too closely mirroring that on Jack's. After all, they are still supposed to be playing boyfriends, and he isn't going to risk his own temper blowing their cover and costing him £5,000. If Jack is that unhappy, he's just going to have to suck it up or find an excuse to get Ianto out of going, because there's nothing Ianto can do about it now.

When Jack interrupts the conversation a moment later, his voice is composed and betrays none of the ire he'd been directing at Ianto a moment before. Ianto knows better than to think that means they aren't going to end up fighting though.

"You all can figure out the details and tell me later. Ianto and I should probably leave soon, so we're just going to go grab my bag and take off okay?"

The conversation dies down for a brief moment as everyone turns to say their goodbyes to Ianto, who is still puzzling over the bag comment. Jack's Dad clears that up for him though.

"Alright boys, drive safe. And Jack, try not to overstay your welcome with the Joneses alright? Ifan is a busy man and doesn't need another teenage boy underfoot. You can always bring Ianto back here if you two can't stand to be apart," he admonishes.

Elizabeth is adding her own welcome to it, gushing about how very happy she is that Ianto has finally come back around and saying she can't wait to see more of him, but Ianto is frozen by the fact that everyone seems to be assuming Jack is spending the night at his house and Jack isn't doing anything to dissuade them of the notion.

When the hell had they agreed to that?

There is no way that Ianto is letting Jack sleep over, especially with no one but Rhiannon at home. He doesn't care if it blows their boyfriend act, doesn't care if it costs him London, he absolutely will not be inviting the boy who has just been glaring at him as if he was the lowest pond scum into his home, not even to sleep on the couch.

He opens his mouth to say just that - perhaps more politely, but still - but Jack darts around the table and grips his arm so tightly it is near painful.

"Come on, Ianto," he says, smiling through gritted teeth. "Let's go get my stuff."

Ianto finds himself being practically dragged from the room, and it is only years of impeccable manners that allow him to call relatively composed goodbyes even as he's sure his arm is being bruised terribly.

"What the hell?" he snaps, as soon as they're out of earshot. They're moving through the adjoining kitchen, up the stairs to the breakfast table and along a long corridor. Ianto can see a door right at the end where he assumes Jack's room is. When they were kids, Jack's room was upstairs near his parents, but he's assuming that Jack wouldn't want to be near his parents' room now. Not within earshot, anyway.

"I could say the same to you!" Jack hisses back. "What were you thinking agreeing to come to the club when I was clearly giving you the signal to politely decline."

"There was nothing clear about it!" Ianto insists in a furious whisper. "You were giving me random eyebrow wiggles; how was I supposed to know that meant 'say no'? You're the one who said I should come!"

"I had to say that!" Jack snaps back. "I can't exactly act like I don't want to see my boyfriend now can I?"

"What, but I'm supposed to act like I don't want to see mine?"

Jack huffs angrily and glares at Ianto again, very clearly placing all the blame for the whole thing on Ianto's shoulders.

"Whatever, we're stuck with it now," Jack says eventually. "I can't believe I have to see you again in just two days; it was hard enough keeping my appetite through dinner with your pasty face staring at me across the table."

"You were staring at me, too!" Ianto snips. "And it isn't like I'm thrilled to be wasting more of my weekend with you and your bratty attitude."

Jack squeezes his arm extra tight for that, before finally letting Ianto go.

"You know for someone who claims to not be able to stand me; you sure seem reluctant to leave me alone," Ianto sulks, rubbing at his aching arm. "You're the one who started this whole thing in the first place. And you're the one who's apparently invited himself over for a sleepover. Which we aren't having by the way, you can sleep in your car for all I care, but you aren't coming into my house."

Jack just looks at him like he's being exceptionally stupid which makes Ianto even madder.

"I'm not actually spending the night with you, idiot," Jack scorns. "Like I want to sleep within a hundred feet of you."

"Then why the hell are we heading to your room to collect your bag?" Ianto asks.

"Because I'm going out this evening, idiot. I can't exactly announce I'm going to hit up the gay clubs in town now, can I? I'm supposed to be playing the good, monogamous boyfriend, or have you already forgotten the whole reason we're in this fucking comedy of errors?"

"So you're telling your mother you're spending the night with me so you can go fuck in a dirty bathroom in some club?" Ianto asks, though he doesn't know why it surprises him.

Somehow, he supposes, after watching Jack interacting with his family all night, he has actually managed to forget just what got Jack into the mess that required Ianto to be a fake boyfriend. He'd forgotten that he was dealing with Jack Harkness, fucker of randoms.

"You don't get to judge me," Jack snarls. "This was part of the deal, you covering for me going out. If you're back out say something now so I can eviscerate you before we leave."

"Whatever," Ianto says. He's suddenly just tired, and he really couldn't care less what Jack does with his night as long as he takes Ianto home first. "Do whatever you want, I don't care. Can you just get your stuff so we can go?"

Jack glares at him for a moment longer as if expecting Ianto to change his mind and start raining down insults and criticisms. When none are forthcoming, he just pushes Ianto's shoulder to get him to stop walking.

"Wait here, I'll be right back."

He turns without another glance and goes into the door at the end of the hallway, leaving Ianto outside another door. Ianto is strangely comforted by the fact that Jack doesn't want to let Ianto see his bedroom any more than Ianto would want to let Jack see his own. It means that, hard nasty exterior or no, Jack has a soft underbelly too and is just as determined to protect it. It's nice knowing he isn't the only one with vulnerabilities here.

Ianto leans against the wall with a sigh, not really thinking as much as he's just existing. It's been a long couple of days and he hasn't even really had the chance to come to terms with the rapid change in circumstances. Considering he's expected at the country club in less than two days now he isn't likely to get any more downtime either, so he'll take a moment of silence and peace wherever he can get it, even if that happens to be in an empty hallway in the Harkness household.

Or maybe not so empty.

As lost in a blank state of waiting as Ianto has been, he somehow fails to notice Gray coming up the stairs and advancing on him. By the time he registers the other man's presence, Gray is barely two feet away and still stepping closer.

"Hi," he says, smiling predatorily.

"Hello," Ianto manages to breathe, pressing himself tighter to the wall.

"I have to admit you were a surprise, Ianto, did you know?" he asks once he is very clearly standing well inside Ianto's personal bubble.

"No?" Ianto says, and hates that his voice is a little pitchy and it sounds more like a question that a statement.

Gray just grins at him, a smile slightly different than Jack's but no less dangerous. He puts a hand on the wall right next to Ianto's head and leans in closer.

"You're very pretty and very polite. My brother doesn't usually have such good taste."

Ianto laughs before he can help himself, both because he agrees with the assessment about Jack's taste and because it is clear that Gray is trying to use some combination of seduction and intimidation on him, which at this point in his night is nothing more than amusing to Ianto. He's watched Jack use the exact same techniques on Lisa for months and it is delightful to see where he picked them up from, because the thought of Jack imitating his older brother is, well, cute.

Gray leans back a bit as Ianto chuckles, looking both amused and affronted that his attempt failed so quickly and completely.

"I'm sorry," Ianto manages, between chuckles. "It's just painfully obvious that you and Jack are brothers right now, and I've watched his bad lines flop so often it's actually rather refreshing to hear them from someone else."

Gray is grinning in earnest now, and moving back in toward Ianto with a scandalous wiggle of his eyebrows though the air between them is no longer tense, just friendly.

"Damn, that usually works," he laments. "In my experience, people being told they're pretty tends to flatter them, not make them laugh in my face."

"Sorry?" Ianto tries, but he's still smiling too widely for it to be sincere.

"No you aren't." Gray smiles back. "I like that. I think I like you, Ianto Jones; you're different."

"Thank you," Ianto says, and this time he really means it. He's been admiring Gray's own different-ness all night so it's quite a compliment as far as he's concerned.

"And you are very pretty," Gray adds. "Just because it was a line doesn't make it any less true."

Ianto can't help that his cheeks heat up a little at that. Somehow, the matter-of-fact way Gray says it this time affects him more than the sultry purr of it before. With the last few horrible days, it is ridiculously pleasing just to have someone say something nice to him.

"Thank you," he says again, a little more shyly.

Gray's grin turns a tiny bit wolfish again at Ianto's tone, but it is still playful. Ianto's pretty sure he's about to pull back and head off to his own room any second, but he doesn't get a chance before another body is forcing its way into the narrow space between them.

"What the hell, Gray?" Jack barks. "You can't just hit on my boyfriend."

Ianto is momentarily thrown, both by Jack's sudden close proximity - nearly pressed against his chest and pinning him to the wall - and at the frustration evident on Jack's tone, as if he's actually upset. Which is silly, Ianto knows, because they are just fake boyfriends. Jack is just a good actor apparently and takes his role seriously.

"Relax, Jack," Gray says calmly. "We were just talking."

"Oh, yeah? Do you usually hold conversations with people with your faces less than six inches apart?" Jack practically snarls. He's got a possessive arm winding around Ianto's waist now, and Ianto has never felt more confused.

"You were the one who abandoned him all by his lonesome out here in the hallway." Gray shrugs. "I was just keeping him company."

"You were trying to kiss him!" Jack accuses, and Ianto finds himself wanting to offer reassurance that that wasn't the case. The brothers aren't paying him any attention though, more focused on the staring match they have going on with each other.

"Well, somebody should; you certainly haven't tried to kiss him all night," Gray mocks. "Not your usual M.O. Jack, from what I remember."

Ianto can feel Jack stiffen beside him and feels just as rigid with shock himself. Because he's pretty sure that was some kind of a dare as far as Jack is going to be concerned, and if he knows Jack at all, he's not about to back down from the challenge.

 _Fuck_ , Ianto thinks, _as if this night wasn't confusing enough_.

He feels more than sees Jack turn in towards him, and before he can help it, he's looking up to meet a steely gaze that holds absolutely nothing but determination. That at least is comforting, because he's pretty sure if there was even a modicum of gentleness or affection in Jack's eyes he wouldn't be able to handle what comes next.

It is the shortest kiss in the history of kisses, Ianto is pretty sure. In fact, he's not even sure if it even qualifies as a kiss so much as a feather-light brushing of lips. Jack's mouth doesn't move at all against his, and his lips are dry and a little chapped in a way that is different from anything else Ianto can name. Mostly Ianto is still a little thrown by the fact that he didn't have to look down to be kissed.

Before he can register more than that, Jack is pulling back and turning away from him to stare triumphantly at his brother. Ianto might as well be a potted plant for all the care Jack seems to have for him, which is in and of itself perhaps comforting too. After all, obviously the whole thing was just posturing and play-acting, and Ianto is absolutely not still feeling a phantom brush of lips against his own. He tries not to think of the last time their lips had touched. That had been such a long time ago.

"Happy?" Jack asks, and Gray rolls his eyes but they are both smiling at each other now, so Ianto figures the weird tension between them has broken. He'll have to ask what that was all about later, but right now his mind is too full up with the bizarre night to even form a question, let alone ask it.

"I suppose," Gray sighs. "Even if that was the lamest territory marking I've ever seen from you, oh brother-mine." He looks at Jack a little more shrewdly then, as if trying to read something in his little brother that he hadn't expected to find.

"Maybe though," he adds slowly after a minute. "That's a good thing. I'm not sure yet, Jack, but I'm starting to think that maybe this boyfriend thing suits you."

Jack's glare is back in force, and Ianto wants to roll his eyes and remind Jack that they're only fake boyfriends, so he doesn't have to get so offended at the idea. It isn't like he's actually being committed to any one person, so whatever Gray thinks he's seeing is just part of the act.

Gray turns that ice-blue gaze on Ianto then once again, the same considering look on his face.

"You certainly are different, Ianto Jones," he repeats, expression never changing, and then he's turning and walking away.

Ianto can feel some of the tension bleed out of Jack as his brother walks away, but hasn't the energy to question it, hasn't in fact the energy to do anything besides push himself off from the wall to start moving towards the breakfast room.

"Come on," he says tiredly to Jack when the other boy makes no immediate move to follow. "I want to go home now."

Jack shakes himself as if from a trance, and when he looks at Ianto, Ianto can see him rebuilding the snarky exterior. By the time he's collected his bag from where it had been dropped to the floor, it is firmly in place, and Ianto feels like they are finally back on familiar ground.

"You didn't leave any lip balm on my face, did you?" he snaps at Ianto as he stomps ahead of him down the corridor.

"You didn't leave any of your herpes on mine, right?" Ianto quips back, and then grins when Jack can't hide the puff of laughter that escapes. This, the banter and insults, this Ianto can deal with.

They don't see any of the rest of the family on their way out, and Jack makes no indication that they should seek them out for additional goodbyes. Ianto is more than happy to slip out the door without having to put the mask back on.

The ride home is mostly silent, both of them brooding over their own thoughts and too tired to even snipe much at each other. It isn't as awkward as Ianto had feared when they were at the table earlier either, for which he's grateful. In fact, the most stilted part of the whole journey comes when they pull up to his house.

He's not sure if he should just jump out of the car without a glance back, like he wants to, or if he somehow owes Jack pleasantries and goodnights.

Luckily, Jack makes things easy by snapping, "Jeez, Jones, what are you waiting for, a kiss goodnight? Get out of my car already, I need to go get laid and forget I had to spend the whole night pretending to like you."

"Fuck you, Jack," he spits, though with admittedly less heat than usual.

"No, thanks." Jack smirks back. "I think I'll let someone else do that job."

"Pig," Ianto hisses.

"Prude," Jack responds, and they are both grinning at each other like idiots.

Ianto rolls his eyes one more time and then climbs from the car without that backward glance. Jack doesn't even wait for him to get to his front door before he's pulling away from the pavement, and Ianto is comforted by how very much this not-a-date ended as not-a-date.

This summer is going to be long enough without blurring the lines between enemies and friends and even more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my hands hurt Q.Q
> 
> thanks as always to my cheerleader temporalsilence and my beta princessoftheworlds
> 
> i'm gonna be posting every wednesday and saturday as I have a lot of this planned out but I also have to work a full time job! Q.Q


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The weekend rolls around with Jack and Ianto hanging out at a public place. It'll be fun, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made a really shitty edit for this the other day lol, just to give myself an idea of what they might look like. Enjoy.  
>   
> 

The text comes on Saturday evening while Ianto is watching an old sci-fi movie with Rhiannon and Tosh. They've been having a relatively relaxed day so far. Ianto tries not to think about Tosh offering to cuddle with him, saying it'll make him feel better.

 **Jack** (7:09 pm): _Vale Resort, tomorrow at 2._

Ianto rolls his eyes, not surprised in the least to find that Jack somehow managed to steal his mobile long enough to input his details last night. He just adds petty theft and pickpocketing to the list of skills that make Jack _oh so desirable_ as a boyfriend.

 **Ianto** (7:11 pm): _I'm sorry, is that you asking or telling?_

 **Jack** (7:12 pm): _You're the one who invited yourself along on this thing. Just be there._

Ianto wants to argue about Jack's manners, but the male lead is about to be shirtless on screen, and that seems much more important than fighting with Jack.

 **Ianto** (7:13 pm): _Fine, are you at least going to give me directions?_

The reply comes less than a minute later and makes Ianto grit his teeth.

 **Jack** (7:13 pm): _I'm sorry, did I give you the impression that I was Google-fucking-Maps? Figure it out, or you can be the one to explain to my family that you were too stupid to even find a building in Cardiff without someone to hold your hand._

"Who are you texting?" Tosh asks, leaning over to try and peek at the screen of the mobile over his shoulder. "You look like you're about to kill something. It isn't Lisa, is it?"

"No, it's no one," Ianto says, quickly dropping the phone back into his lap so Tosh won't see Jack's name.

"Whatever you say but your face looks like mine did when Mary used to bitch at me all the time," Tosh insists, still looking appraisingly at Ianto.

Ianto shrugs off the look. "It's fine, Tosh. Really, it's nothing."

"Okay," Tosh says eventually, voice heavy with disbelief.

They all watch the rest of the film in silence, except for a few cheers and sympathetic winces when the male lead gets a good hit in and takes one or two himself. Ianto sits on his hands to keep himself from texting anything vile to Jack, because he is sorely tempted.

By the time the film is over, Tosh and Rhiannon have started debating whether it is too much to ask for extra sausage on a meat lover's pizza - so many jokes, so little time, Ianto thinks, and hates that he can picture Jack laughing at that. Ianto is certainly not going to start debating the merits of extra sausage with the girls (Tosh will catch on to the implied innuendo eventually, and he doesn't want to be around to see their reactions), so he excuses himself and dashes up to the relative peace of his bedroom.

He's been trying to avoid hanging out in his room more than necessary since Lisa left, mostly because even innocently listening to music and flipping through magazines makes him feel nostalgic and then mopey. He's already done a vicious round-up of anything directly Lisa-related, gathering pictures and mementos into several boxes which are shoved at the back of his closet. He'll unpack when Lisa comes back in August, but for now, it's too painful to be surrounded by reminders.

He's just started brooding over the weird empty spaces where everything once sat, somehow just as painful as the things themselves, when his mobile chimes again.

 **Jack** (8:33 pm): _I'm taking your silence as agreement that you'll show up, though I suppose you may still be trying to figure out how to use the computer without Toshiko's help._

Ianto glares, sufficiently distracted from one foul mood with another.

 **Ianto** (8:35 pm): _I'm surprised you know that a computer can be used for more than porn._

 **Jack** (8:36 pm): _At least I don't use it to post my poorly-written Supernatural fanfic. DeansProfoundBondmate, Ianto? Really?_

Ianto feels all the blood drain from his face. There is only one way that Jack knows that, because there is only one other person in the entire world who knows his screen name. He is going to murder Gwen Cooper just as soon as he figures out why she was talking to Jack about his fanfiction in the first place. And it's not poorly written, _thankyouverymuch_.

He shoots her a quick text with thinly veiled threats against her person if she doesn't explain herself immediately, but he has a larger problem in that Jack is still in need of a response and the longer he leaves it, the worse it looks for him. He doesn't even consider denying it, because he knows it will only make him look like he's ashamed or something, and he's not. His Explicit fics have been met with near-critical acclaim on Twitter. He didn't get hundreds of followers by posting rubbish.

 **Ianto** (8:41 pm): _Stalking me now, Jack? Really, you keep saying you can't stand me, but I'm thinking it seems an awful lot like a case of 'the lady doth protest too much.’_

When it takes nearly six minutes for a response to come back, Ianto figures he's at least held his own.

 **Jack** (8:47 pm): _The only lady in this relationship is you._

 **Ianto** (8:48 pm): _Relationship? Really? I'm flattered Jack, but I'm just not sure I'm ready to make that kind of commitment._

 **Jack** (8:49 pm): _Fuck You._

Ianto laughs out loud at that, grinning at his phone before he catches himself and schools his features back into a scowl. Before he can respond, another text window pops up with a response from Gwen.

 **Gwen** (8:50 pm): _I'm sorry! He cornered me after Valentine's, said he wanted to apologise again for trying to get between me and Rhys. We were just talking, and he mentioned he was into Supernatural. How could I not brag about you?_

Ianto wants to be angry with her, wants to be able to rip her apart for sharing something so intensely private, but knows that is just how Gwen is. She will never completely understand her actions - based so much in a good, if misguided, heart - could be harmful. Plus, he's kind of busy being unnerved by the thought that Jack has had this information for around four months and is just now getting around to using it against him.

He wonders if Jack has actually been reading his fic all this time. If so, he really wants to know what he thought of the fics he has been slowly churning out where he's been exploring Dean's crappy upbringing, crappy father, and how it related to him repressing his sexuality.

But he's getting off track, not to mention he's appalled to realise that he's considering actually discussing his most secret scribbles with Jack of all people. (Which doesn't mean he isn't stalking the accounts of every single one of his followers tonight though, trying to determine if one of them is his nemesis-cum-fake-boyfriend in disguise.)

 **Ianto** (8:53 pm): _It's fine; you're forgiven. I should know better than to share something with you if I don't want it to get out eventually._

 **Gwen** (8:54 pm): _I'm not that bad! :(_

 **Ianto** (8:55 pm): _Yes, you are, but I love you, anyway._

 **Gwen** (8:57 pm): _< 3 u 2._

 **Gwen** (8:57 pm): _What are you doing talking to Jack, anyway?_

 **Ianto** (9:00 pm): _It's nothing. Just ran into him over coffee, no big deal._

 **Gwen** (9:02 pm): _Do you want to talk about it?_

He does and he doesn't, and his own thoughts are too confusing to even think about sharing them with Gwen, who will just spin them into an even more dramatic tale for Tosh. He loves her, but he knows her too. If he confides in her at all then by this time tomorrow, Tosh will be thinking that Jack is holding something over Ianto to get him to fake-date him all summer.

 **Ianto** (9:04 pm): _No, I'm good, thank you, though. I'll talk to you later, Rhiannon and Tosh need my input on a sixth type of meat product for the pizza._

This last isn't strictly true, but it has the desired effect. Gwen, being a vegetarian, texts him a sick-face emoji and then leaves him be. 

He's thinking about heading back downstairs to make sure Rhiannon remembers to order a veggie pizza for him when his phone chimes once more.

 **Jack** (9:07 pm): _Look, will you just tell me if you're going to be there or not? Mum won't stop harassing me to confirm with you._

Ianto smiles, picturing Elizabeth nagging her son, and is tempted to leave Jack hanging just to torture him. But he can't bring himself to be quite that mean for some reason.

 **Ianto** (9:08 pm): _I'll be there wearing my best make-up._

 **Jack** (9:09 pm): _The scary thing is I'm not sure if you mean that._

Ianto is still grinning when he types out his reply. Let Jack worry about his potential fashion choices.

 **Ianto** (9:09 pm): _I'll see you tomorrow, Jack._

He's standing to leave his room when the final text of the night comes through, and he's grinning so much that he doesn't give any of the empty spaces around the room a second thought as he closes the door behind him to go back downstairs.

 **Jack** (9:12 pm): _See you tomorrow, Ianto. Please leave the make-up off, though, okay?_

\-----

In the end, he can't help himself, and puts on his most subtle eyeliner. When he enters the resort building and spots Jack facing away from him, he taps Jack on the shoulder. Jack turns around with wide eyes, though his expression shifts to a nearly-fond smile when he sees Ianto has the subtle look on as a joke.

"Very funny," he says, and Ianto grins at him.

"I thought so."

Jack looks like he's about to say more, but Ianto is suddenly being accosted from two sides. He's pretty sure the look he's giving Jack is vaguely terrified, but really what would you expect from someone currently in the middle of a Gray and River sandwich?

"Ianto, you came!" River says excitedly in his ear. "Jack made it sound like you might flake out on us."

Ianto arches an eyebrow at Jack who just smirks and shrugs at him. "What? I had to tell River about your flighty behaviour when I ran into her at that bar in Cardiff last night, you know the one you were supposed to meet me at for our date? I was so disappointed when you never showed up, babe."

Ianto smiles tightly back. So that's what this is about, Jack got caught on the pull last night and used Ianto as an excuse. As much as he hates it, covering for Jack is what he signed up for, but he's not going to let the Harknesses think he's a ditz in the process. And he's not going to let the 'babe' thing slip either.

"I told you, sweetheart," he says back, voice sickeningly sweet. "I had a family emergency. I never would have left you all by your lonesome in a big scary bar, you know that."

"Yeah, because we all know it only takes a few drinks to turn Jack here into the Whore of Babylon," Gray interjects, earning a glare of his own. "Good thing River was there to keep you in line, huh, baby brother?

Ianto's smile widens at that, and not just because Jack is looking near-murderous at his brother's insult. It's also because Gray has inadvertently told him that Jack was totally cockblocked by his sister last night, which improves his own day greatly, mostly because he's sure it ruined Jack's evening.

"You know I'm not doing that anymore, Gray," Jack grinds out between gritted teeth. "I'm with Ianto now."

"Of course you are," River interjects. "Stop being mean, Gray, especially when Ianto is standing right here looking even more lovely than the other night. Not even Jack could cheat on someone this gorgeous."

Ianto's cheeks heat a little, more from the leer Gray turns on him than from the compliment from River. He gives her a small smile though, which she returns.

Jack looks even more frustrated than before and is alternately glaring at all three of them, though he looks particularly hard at Gray who is still looking at Ianto.

"I hate you all," he finally says, though there is no real venom in his words. "C'mon, Ianto, we've got an hour before my annoying sister hits the courts and I don't want to spend it with them."

Jack grabs Ianto's arm again (they are really going to have to talk about the fact that Ianto bruises easily at some point, because even he doesn't want to wear long-sleeved shirts all summer long) and drags him away from where his siblings are still grinning at him like he's being particularly cute.

"I recommend cabana number three!" Gray calls after them. "Best loungers for fucking on, nice and sturdy!"

"Or, if you're feeling adventurous, you could go out to the twelfth hole on the golf course," River adds. "Exhibitionism is always a fun kink!"

Ianto's cheeks are a deep pink and even Jack looks a little uncomfortable with the loud commentary, which is saying something.

"Seriously, fuck you both," he yells back, tugging harder on Ianto's arm and causing him to stumble. Ianto glares when Jack just huffs impatiently at the delay.

"No thanks, you aren't my type, but I'd let Ianto do it," Gray volleys back and Ianto watches in fascination as Jack's expression turns almost apoplectic.

Jack drops Ianto's arm and marches back over, pushing right up into his brother's space to jab a sharp finger into his chest.

"He is mine," Jack hisses. "Mine. Don't forget that."

Ianto feels so very confused.

Gray throws his arms up in a calming gesture, "I'm just teasing, Jack, god."

"You are never just teasing, Gray," Jack returns. "Don't forget I know you, too."

Gray's face shifts from its cool, aloof lines to a nearly apologetic expression and he looks at his little brother almost softly. "Jack..."

"Don't." Jack sighs, not sounding mad anymore, just tired. "I know, Gray, but just don't right now, okay?"

Gray nods and steps back to give Jack more room. River slips an arm around her older brother's waist and looks at them both as if she wants to fix something that Ianto didn't even realise was broken.

Jack looks at them both, and by the time he turns to walk back to Ianto, all traces of vulnerability and anger have been wiped from his face, leaving him looking nearly blank. Still, when he reaches Ianto, he slings an arm around Ianto's waist and tugs him in close to his side. Ianto fights the urge to stiffen up under the gesture, and not just because it's part of the act. There's also a little voice in his mind telling him that for whatever reason Jack needs this right now, needs to be able to somehow claim Ianto as his own - as curious as the thought is.

They don't speak, and Ianto lets himself be led through the building toward a large set of glass doors near the back of the lobby. Even once they are out of sight from River and Gray, Jack keeps Ianto tucked in tight next to him. Ianto is afraid to say anything and upset whatever precarious balance they are holding right now.

When they start walking by a large swimming pool, filled with bored housewives and posturing teens, Jack finally seems to shake himself from his funk. He drops his arm and takes a full step sideways to put some distance between his body and Ianto's.

"You want to tell me what that was about?" Ianto asks when he can't stand the silence any longer. He tries to keep his voice calm and doesn't fill it with any of the accusation or panic running through his mind at the thought that Jack had called him 'mine.’

"What was what about?" Jack says nonchalantly, as if Ianto's crazy.

"That little posturing display back there! Since when am I 'yours,’ Jack? You seem to be pushing this whole fake-boyfriend thing a little far."

Jack clenches his jaw and Ianto doesn't think he's going to answer for a very long minute. But he does, though his answer doesn't exactly clear anything up.

"It's not about you," Jack asserts, and the look he gives Ianto is so fucking dismissive that Ianto has no trouble believing him. "Gray just has a bad habit of poaching, and I'm tired of it. It could have been anybody, believe me, you aren't anything special."

Ianto really hates that Jack seems to have a knack for throwing his biggest insecurities in his face. What's almost worse is that he doesn't even seem to know when he's doing it, as if he cares so little about Ianto that he doesn't even give enough of a damn to purposely make his words hurtful. At least when Jack is insulting him on purpose, Ianto knows it is about him.

He really hates being an outlet for other people's issues.

"So it's just, what, some territorial brother thing?" Ianto asks disbelievingly once he's tamped down the sting from the words 'you aren't anything special.’

"Something like that," Jack hums in confirmation, letting his eyes flit over to the outdoor tennis courts and then sweep back over the pool. He's looking everywhere but at Ianto, and Ianto just knows there's more to the story than this. He also knows he's not going to get any more of that story here, standing surrounded by all these rich people.

"Fine, whatever," Ianto sighs. "Just try to watch it with the aggressiveness, would you? I still have finger-shaped bruises on my arm from Friday."

Jack looks startled at the information, and one of his hands reaches automatically for Ianto's sleeve, as if to push it back and look for himself. He drops the hand before it reaches Ianto though, shoves both of his hands in the pockets of his shorts instead. He won't meet Ianto's eye again, and his face looks a little remorseful, which Ianto figures is the closest thing to an apology he is likely to get.

The best thing to do right now would be to find a place to hide out for the next half an hour (maybe cabana number three wouldn't be such a bad choice after all). They won't have to put on the act. And maybe, just maybe, he can get Jack to finally fucking talk to him. Jack doesn't seem to even be paying attention to where they're standing though, still lost somewhere in his own head, so Ianto figures it's up to him to figure out where they're going.

"Come on," he says, grabbing Jack's arm for once. "I'm not standing next to this pool for the next hour until your sister's tournament starts. Let's go find a place to sit. Maybe we can grab one of the cabanas."

He knows he shouldn't have said that last part as soon as it is out of his mouth, knows that he has just opened himself up to Jack's sex jokes. Sure enough the leer is back in full force and Jack's eyes are sparkling once again. He looks like what Ianto imagines the sprite Puck from A Midsummer Night's Dream to look like, all wild mischief and tempting bad decisions, and Ianto suddenly doesn't care at all that he's about to be teased. It is worth it to see Jack looking like himself again.

"Lord, what fools these mortals be," he mumbles to himself, too quiet for Jack to hear.

"A cabana, Ianto?" Jack says, unaware of Ianto's thoughts and whisper. "You aren't really my type, but considering I didn't get any last night, I suppose I could make an exception just this once."

"Bite me, Jack," Ianto says, rolling his eyes.

"No, I don't think I will. But since you're obviously gagging for it, I will let you blow me. As long as I don't look down, I suppose I'll be able to take one for the team. I wonder if I can count it as giving to charity on my taxes..."

Jack is smirking at him, his body language just daring Ianto to push back. Ianto is happy to oblige.

"You are such a-"

"Jack!" a voice calls across the pool, interrupting Ianto from building up a head of steam. "Hey, Jack!"

They both turn to see a tall, dark haired boy wearing the uniform of the health club staff jogging around the pool toward them.

A very familiar boy.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me," Ianto groans as Adam gets closer.

Jack shoots him a questioning look but doesn't have a chance to say anything before Adam has closed the last of the distance, coming to a stop much too close to Jack as far as Ianto is concerned.

It isn't that he cares if Jack is fucking someone else, because they aren't really dating, but he does care if Jack flaunt his fucks while he's standing next to Ianto who, for all appearances and as far as Adam should be able to tell, is his boyfriend. He also kind of cares because it is Adam-fucking-Mitchell, and Ianto is probably always pretty much going to hate that guy.

"Hey," Adam says to Jack, his voice low and coy as he bats his eyelashes up at the boy.

"Hi," Jack says back, looking mostly amused. He doesn't step back though, or make any move to put some space between them, and that just irks Ianto to no end.

"Oh hi," Adam says to him, finally tearing his eyes from Jack to give Ianto a dismissive once over. His eyes narrow for a moment when they reach Ianto's face as if he's trying to place him. "Do we know each other? You look familiar."

"Not really, no," Ianto smirks back, his eyes flickering to his hair which he seems to have grown out. "Nice hair."

Jack can obviously hear the sarcasm because he smiles hugely at Ianto as if they are sharing in the joke, but Adam takes it at face-value.

"Thanks," he says, before turning to focus all his attention back on Jack.

Jack, who is still smiling at Ianto.

This doesn't seem to sit too well with Adam, who steps even closer and brings one hand up to rest against Jack's chest.

"You haven't been around the club for awhile," he croons. "I've missed you." His words successfully regain Jack's attention, though Jack isn't looking as blatantly interested as Ianto expected him to.

"Been busy," Jack says dismissively. "This place isn't really my thing."

"Really?" Adam purrs. "Because last time you were here, I could've sworn we found a couple activities that were most definitely your thing."

Jack's smile turns smug at that, and Ianto suddenly understands a little better what he imagines Jack felt when Gray was hitting on him. Because he may not be dating Jack, but Adam is just being rude.

"His tastes have since improved," Ianto cuts in, making both boys startle.

"I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name," Adam hisses at him, glaring at him in open challenge.

Ianto hates the little gleeful look on Jack's face as he watches the drama unfold, but he can't make himself back down.

"I didn't give it," he says as dismissively as he can manage. "I don't make a habit of introducing myself to people that no longer matter. All you need to know is that he," Ianto cocks his thumb at Jack, "knows my name well enough to be screaming it on a daily basis."

Jack laughs delightedly at that and slings an arm around Ianto's waist.

"Down, darling, no need to attack the help," he murmurs, just loud enough to be sure both boys have heard.

Ianto wants to snap at Jack for calling him darling, wants to snap at him for ever having the bad taste to fuck someone like Adam, but one battle at a time. If the look Adam is giving him is any indication, his current fight isn't quite over yet.

"Jack, come on baby," Adam tries again, though his voice is a little whiny now. "I bet he can't give you everything I did. I mean, just look at him."

Adam is looking at him like he's laughable, and Jack is turning to him with an appraising eye, but Ianto isn't about to sit around and be judged. He is tired of people underestimating him, and he is tired of being considered unsexy, and he is very very tired of Adam.

"Look at this," he growls, and grabs on Jack's collar with two hands to haul him in, ignoring the twin looks of surprise on the other boys' faces.

Their lips crash together with more force than finesse; Ianto may not be porn star levels of sexy, but he sure as fuck knows how to kiss. At least that’s what Lisa used to say.

He puts all his hours of skill sharpening into it now, softening his mouth against Jack's just a little so that their lips are sliding against each other instead of smashing. He lets their mouths work together for a moment, and then he tugs Jack's lower lip into his own mouth and between his teeth, suckling and nibbling at it gently. Jack's own mouth drops open automatically in surprise, and it seems it's all he can do to just keep up with Ianto as he gets over the shock of being kissed.

It doesn't take long before he's giving back as good as he gets though, parting his lips to let his tongue taste along Ianto's upper lip in a wet, feather soft glide. Ianto can't help the little breathy gasp that escapes him as he opens up wider, welcoming Jack's tongue more fully into his mouth. He strokes his own up and along it, and the touch is near electric and so much different than kissing Lisa has ever been.

Jack kisses with a technical skill that is impressive, but more than that Ianto can almost sense something wild lurking just underneath the surface. He's tempted to try and bring that reigned-in power out into the light, pulling it out of Jack with lips and tongue and teeth. He barely manages to restrain himself, remembering that they are standing next to a pool in a stuffy resort after all.

He can't stop himself from pressing back into the kiss a little though. His hands loosen from where they've been tightly fisted in Jack's shirt, and he slides them up and over strong shoulders to dig into Jack's back and force him closer. Jack lets out a little strangled sound of his own at that, practically fucking his tongue into Ianto's mouth now that it is open and willing.

Ianto feels flushed all over, knows there are a million reasons why he shouldn't be doing this, but he can't for the life of him think of one good enough to make him stop. He has no idea how long they stand there, pressed together and mouths meeting over and over again in a wet delicious slide of heat, but eventually they both pull back, breathing heavily.

Jack's eyes are dark and questioning as they rest on him, and Ianto's sure he must be flushed from their entanglement. Jack is looking at him like he's trying to figure something out, and he opens his mouth to say something but they are interrupted once again by Adam, who is now clearing his throat pointedly.

"Get lost, Aidan," Jack says, never looking away from Ianto's face.

"It's Adam," the other boy grumps.

"Do I look like I fucking care? I said get lost," Jack growls, finally turning from Ianto to glare at the other boy.

Adam opens his mouth as if to argue and then thinks better of it. He gives Ianto one last nasty look before storming off, but Ianto can't really be bothered by it. He's too busy clawing himself out of the fog of the last few moments.

"Ianto," Jack says, looking at him again. "What the fuck was that?"

"What was what?" Ianto tries innocently, parroting Jack's earlier words back to him. Jack rolls his eyes, but Ianto is relieved that it seems to have lifted some of the heavy tension from between them.

"Seriously? You're going to pretend like you didn't just try to suck my face off?"

"Oh honey, I think you were the one almost attacking me. I may have kissed you first, but what you were doing was definitely not kissing back. It was like getting mauled by an overenthusiastic Labrador."

Jack looks so offended that Ianto can't stop himself from laughing.

"I can't believe you just insulted my kissing skills. I'm an awesome kisser," Jack grumps. "I'm so good, I come with references!"

"And ew, thank you for that," Ianto responds. "I now need to find the strongest mouthwash money can buy. Or maybe scotch, scotch might work."

Jack laughs and shoves him back around the pool toward the small bar.

"Scotch I can do, but only if you admit I'm a good kisser."

Ianto gives him a long once over, smirking when Jack fidgets just a little under his gaze. "Adequate, he says finally. "I'll give you adequate."

"You're such a bitch," Jack complains fondly.

"So I've been told," Ianto says dryly.

He lets Jack order for them, and isn't even surprised that the bartender hands over two tumblers of amber liquid without batting an eye. He's not sure when he decided that drinking was a good idea, but it is a day not to back down from challenges apparently so he sips at it gamely.

When the liquid burns down his throat, he can't stop the face he pulls though, which makes Jack laugh. "You sure you don't want to stick with Shirley Temples?"

"No, this is fine," Ianto manages, his voice a little raspy from the burn. He takes another sip and manages to swallow without grimacing. Much.

Jack is still grinning at him but doesn't argue further. He downs his own drink in one go, and gestures for the bartender to fill his glass again. When that's done, he picks it up and starts to steer Ianto away.

"River's tournament is going to be starting soon; we should go get seats."

"Yeah, okay," Ianto agrees distractedly. He's still trying to process the last few minutes in his mind.

They find seats easily, settling down in front of the court next to Jack's parents. When Gray wanders in a few minutes later, he hesitates and then takes the seat next to his father, on the opposite side from Jack and Ianto. He gives them a small smile though, and Ianto finds himself glad to see Jack returning it.

They may not really be dating, and he may only have the summer with the Harknesses, but he already finds himself caring whether they all get along. It is a very slippery slope, but he's not sure how to find a handhold to drag himself back up at this point.

The match starts and for a while they sit quietly, eyes tracking back and forth as the ball gets spiked and volleyed back and forth. They all clap politely when one team scores a point, and Ianto chuckles when River and Jodie win their first match, causing the entire Harkness clan to jump up, cheering and whooping obnoxiously. They get some glares from other people for the outburst, but no one says anything and Ianto is secretly glad that he's sitting with the one group that doesn't seem like robots.

They're half way through the second match of three when Jack leans in a little closer to whisper in his ear.

"So, is that something we're doing now? Kissing?"

Ianto's stomach drops, and he feels so paralysed by the question that he can't even sort his own emotions. He has no idea what to say, doesn't even really know if he could say something if he wanted to.

"Are you saying you want to kiss me?" he manages to ask, looking at Jack nervously.

"No," Jack says immediately. "Most definitely not. I'm mostly trying to figure out if you mauling my face is something I ought to be prepared for."

Ianto returns the glare and feels his stomach and heart returning to their normal places in his body at the familiarity of the scorn between them.

"I only kissed you because I hate that bloke," he hisses back. "It had nothing to do with you."

Jack arches an eyebrow at him like he doesn't believe him, but Ianto just sneers.

"Fine, good," Jack says finally. "Because it definitely wasn't in the deal. If you're going to be doing shit like that often, I'm going to want to renegotiate the contract, because you would definitely be getting the better end of the deal."

"Your ego is shamefully over-inflated," Ianto snaps, letting disgust layer his tone. "Believe me, I'm not getting the better end of anything from you."

Jack laughs loudly at that and gets shushed by half a dozen people for the noise. He quiets down quickly but keeps grinning at Ianto.

"Okay, as long as we're on the same page here," he whispers. "Wouldn't want you to get confused by the boyfriend act and start thinking it's real."

"Thanks for the concern," Ianto whispers back. "But, I'm perfectly aware of where we stand. The only thing I'm in danger of is committing homicide before the summer is over because I can't stand your stupid face any longer."

"There's my boy," Jack teases, eyes flinty and amused.

"I'm not your anything," Ianto hisses.

"You'll be just my summer boyfriend," Jack sings lowly under his breath.

Those lyrics spark something in Ianto's head. A memory of the two of them as kids. Jack making Ianto listen to Lady Gaga. The two of them singing along at the top of their voices. That's where Ianto's fondness for Gaga came from.

Jack can't stop humming the chorus for the rest of the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks as always to my cheerleader temporalsilence and my beta princessoftheworlds
> 
> so the place they went to is vaguely based off of a real place, you could probably google it to get an idea, but i am taking major creative liberties lol


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ianto hasn't heard from Jack in ten days. Since the day out with the Harknesses.

Ianto hasn’t been sleeping well for the past few nights.

Technically, he hasn’t been sleeping very well since the beginning of May when his world started falling apart, but it’s been worse this last week. If he’s being honest, and he is, in that middle-of-the-night-can’t-sleep kind of way, he hasn’t slept very well since one event in particular. Since the kiss.

It’s all Adam’s fault.

Okay, really, it’s probably his fault, maybe a little bit Jack’s fault, but Ianto likes being able to blame it on Adam - he still really doesn’t like that guy.

The problem is Ianto can’t stop thinking about it, and yet he has no better grasp on how he feels about the entire thing now - at nearly 2am on what is now technically Thursday - than he did in those initial seconds directly after.

There are too many things all tied up in it, and not all of them are separable. He’s still dealing with the shock of it, for once. Part of that is surprise at himself for being the one to initiate it, and for being so easily riled up by someone who should be so far in his past as to not even matter anymore. Another part is the unexpected way in which kissing Jack was… not vile. (Maybe it was more than that, he knows, but even two-in-the-morning-truthness only goes so far.) So, there is shock at himself for both starting it and for not not-enjoying it.

There is also the complication of Lisa. The truth is most of what got Ianto so angry in the first place that day by the pool was that it was Adam, who is a sore point of Ianto’s in his history with Lisa. Even his jealousy and aggressive reaction were, weirdly, more about him and Lisa than they were about Jack or their fake relationship. So before he even gets to his feelings about kissing Jack while still in love with Lisa, the situation is already about Lisa more than Ianto feels comfortable with.

Then there is the kiss itself. Ianto knows it wasn’t cheating, because he knows better than anyone that he and Lisa aren’t dating right now. But it still feels a little like cheating, in his heart. When Ianto thinks about what he wants, it still all comes down to just counting the days until the 28th August when Lisa comes back to him, and kissing other people in the interim was definitely never meant to be part of Ianto’s plan.

He knows Lisa won’t have any right to criticise him for it, just like he knows he wouldn’t be able to criticise Lisa for anything that happens in New York. But he also knows that the thought of Lisa kissing someone else (his Lisa, Ianto’s masochistic heart wants to insist) pretty much makes him feel like he’s being torn apart. So even though his mind knows he can do whatever he wants, his irrational emotions won’t let him be at peace with it.

Then, finally, there is Jack himself, and this might be the most tangled and perplexing part of it all.

It is unexpected, the way in which Jack hasn’t used the kiss against him since it happened. In fact, after their little courtside chat at the resort, Jack hasn’t said a word about it at all, not to tease, not to preen, not even as an innuendo. Which is, again, bewildering. Ianto always figured that Jack would be the guy who either pushed for more or laughed at you for trying in the first place. The fact that he’s let it go as just a passing circumstance is both extremely relieving and ridiculously frustrating. Because as much as Ianto really doesn’t want to talk about it, he also kind of really does.

He supposes it might be a personality trait of his own, (but strongly suspects it is something he just became accustomed to through his relationship with Lisa), but Ianto is discovering that he’s become used to near constant communication with the person he’s in a relationship (real or otherwise) with - and he and Jack are absolutely not communicators, with each other at least.

Ianto wants to know what Jack is thinking about all of this (is he even thinking about this?). He wants to talk about why it happened, wants to explain to Jack all the history and complication behind it, but he knows Jack probably wouldn’t care or even want to listen. He also knows that as much as he may want to know Jack’s thoughts, he still feels unwilling to actually share his own. It would make him vulnerable, and perhaps the only thing that might trump Ianto’s desire to communicate is his desire to not ever make himself vulnerable to anyone. Especially Jack.

But there is still a small, perverse part of him that almost wishes Jack would be the one to force a conversation, because Ianto kind of also really wants to know if Jack thought he was a good kisser. Of course there is no way he’s ever going to ask that. Jack may not have ridiculed him for the kiss itself, but he would never let Ianto live it down if Ianto asked him for a critique of his technique.

So Ianto isn’t going to ask or say any of the million things in his head because, as he frequently reminds himself, this is Jack Harkness and they aren’t even really friends, let alone friends who talk about kissing. It’s just the weird immediacy and forced intimacy of this situation they are in, the immersion of himself into the Harkness family and all their siren-song allure, which is confusing him and making him think about it all more than he should.

Ultimately, the worst part is Ianto couldn’t talk about it and make a fool of himself even if he wanted to, because he and Jack haven’t had a single conversation in nearly ten days - even in text - since they parted ways at the resort that Sunday. Not a call about dinner with the family, not a request for Ianto to cover for him some evening, not even a heads up about an upcoming event. The last thing Jack said to him ‘I’ll call you,’ and Ianto is beginning to wonder if he shouldn’t have asked ‘when?’

Ianto hates that he’s now at the point where not hearing from Jack is what’s bothering him.

In fact, he’d been so desperate to talk about the whole messed up situation that this afternoon, he’d made the mistake of texting Lisa again.

It hadn’t been a confession or anything (how to even put that into 160 characters or less? ‘Kissed a guy I think I hate, but it was mostly about you and misplaced jealousy over past crushes mixed with fear that you’re finding someone better, still <3 u’? Yeah, how about no). In the end, the message he sent had just been three little words, and not even the ones he really wanted to say.

**Ianto** (2:43 pm):  _ I miss you. _

Lisa hasn’t answered. Ianto isn’t sure how he feels about that either.

It hurts, obviously, but what is almost worse is that a tiny little part of him isn’t surprised. Not because Lisa is a cruel person, not because he thinks Lisa wouldn’t come running if something was really very wrong, but because he knows Lisa honestly thinks that total communication blackout for the summer is what will be best for them in the long run. She thinks she’s saving Ianto from any potential future heartbreak by testing things before they have a chance to get hard. And Lisa can be so obtuse when she thinks she’s doing what’s best, especially when it comes to Ianto.

Ianto wants to hate her for that sometimes, but he never can. Because, like with Gwen, Lisa’s actions tend to be influenced by a misguided but ultimately kind heart, and it seems to be Ianto’s lot in life to love all kinds of misguided, kind people.

Sometimes though, just sometimes, Ianto wishes that Lisa wouldn’t feel the need to love him so carefully. Lisa is always trying to ‘do what’s best,’ to protect Ianto and them from any potential hurts or pitfalls. Sometimes, just sometimes, what Ianto really wants is to be loved in a messy, complicated, wild, passionate way instead - potential for greater heartache in the end and all.

These are all the things that Ianto is still thinking about at 2am on what is now technically Thursday. So he is anything but dead asleep when his phone rings.

His first panicked thought is that something has happened to his mum, who’s still in the Beacons with his dad, and he fumbles for the phone as his heart tries to beat its way out of his chest.

“Hello?” he says, voice breathless and pitchy with worry when he finally manages to tap the screen to answer and get the damn thing to his ear.

“Ianto, oh good, are you home?” Jack greets him from the other end, and Ianto nearly faints from relief before he remembers that it is two in the morning and Jack somehow thought now, after ten days with no communication, would be a good time for a chat.

“Jack?” he asks, the disbelief and frustration shining through. “Why are you calling me in the middle of the night?”

He can hear laughter in the background, a tinny chatter of other voices and white noise that he’s pretty sure means Jack is in a car on the road.

“Are you home?” Jack repeats, and his voice is just a little slurry. Ianto’s pretty sure he’s drunk.

“Are you driving?” he demands immediately. “Jack, please tell me you didn’t call me while you’re driving drunk.”

“Nope, not driving,” Jack says and there is a little bit of laughter in his voice. “It’s cute that you’re worried, though.”

“I’m not worried about you,” Ianto insists. “I’m worried about all the potential innocent victims on the road with you. I’ve seen you drive sober, which was bad enough what with you pushing at least 20 over the speed limit at all times and-”

“Calm down, tiger,” Jack cuts him off. “Just tell me you’re home, okay? I’m looking at an ETA of five minutes here, and I really need you to be there. You can bitch at me all you want as long as you’re home when I get there.”

Ianto wants to balk at the nickname, wants to bitch about how rude it is to cut someone off when they’re speaking, wants to ask what the hell is going on, but for some reason all he manages is, “Of course I’m home, it’s two in the morning.”

Jack really does laugh then.

“Of course,” he parrots back, still giggling just a little. “How silly of me. I must have forgotten who I was talking to. See you in five.” And then he hangs up.

He hung up on me, Ianto thinks, staring at his phone in disbelief. He actually just hung up on me.

It takes him nearly two minutes to process the fact that not only has Jack called him drunk in the middle of the night for some unknown reason, but he’d then hung up before answering any of the million questions Ianto hasn’t been able to even form yet.

Then he realises that he’s spent two minutes staring dumbly at his phone, which means in less than three minutes (if Jack’s alcohol-influenced timing is to be trusted) Jack will be at his house. Which is so not a good thing, because Ianto will need ten whole minutes just to fix his bed head.

First things first though, Ianto is in desperate need of pajama bottoms. He mostly sleeps in his underwear.

If it was winter, he’d be a bit better off, because he’d have more of his flannel bottoms unpacked from his closet, but it’s summer and it’s hot so Ianto now finds himself scrambling through drawers to find something, anything, to put on his lower half that isn’t powder blue boxer briefs or jeans.

Eventually, he unearths an old pair of trackies left over from P.E. and tugs them on quickly along with an old Beacon Hills Lacrosse t-shirt. (Okay, maybe he’s a wee bit obsessed with the TV show Teen Wolf and the insanely attractive cast. He’s only human, okay?)

A quick check of his phone lets him know that he’s got less than a minute left, and he’s determined to be downstairs before Jack can ring the doorbell or do something else monumentally stupid that could potentially wake Rhiannon and bring up entirely too many questions. His eyes do a fast sweep of his room, not that he plans on letting Jack near it if he can help it, and when he deems it as good as it’s going to get in the next thirty seconds, he dashes out, shutting the door behind him, before taking the stairs two at a time.

He opens the front door just as a car blaring music at ear-splitting levels comes barreling around the corner and parks crookedly against the curb in front of his house.

Ianto thinks he can see at least three people crammed into the backseat, another couple in front, and soon enough one of the rear doors is being flung open so that Jack himself can come tumbling out. There is a boy, probably uni age, and with awful skin but  _ decent hair _ , leaning out the open door after as if he’s trying to tug Jack back in.

“Come on, mate, not cool to leave a guy hanging after you get yours!”  _ decent _ (well, really only okay)  _ hair _ demands, and Jack turns back to the car.

“Next time!” he shouts, voice loud, even though he is less than five feet away. “My boyfriend’s waiting on me!” He’s giggling again, like it’s just about the funniest thing he’s ever said, and  _ okay _ (not even okay, Ianto decides, in fact rather awful)  _ hair _ gives Ianto something that he assumes is meant to be a glare, but really only looks like one of Johnny’s confused constipated stares.

Jack’s still laughing and stumbling, waving and shouting goodbyes back to the people in the car as awful hair shuts the door with more force than necessary and they peel away from the curb.

Ianto already doesn’t have the patience for this.

When Jack finally turns toward him, staggering up the pavement to where Ianto is waiting at the door, he can see that Jack’s belt is undone as well as the button on his jeans, and that his hair is mussed in a way that practically screams ‘I just got laid.’ When he gets closer, Ianto can see the glaze of alcohol in Jack’s eyes, as well as a flush on his cheeks which he has a sneaking suspicion has more to do with recent backseat activities than it does drinking.

Oh god, Ianto realises, I think I just found out what Jack looks like after an orgasm.

He shuts that train of thought down quick, because he cannot add those mental pictures to an already overloaded psyche.

“Hey, boyfriend.” Jack grins as he closes the rest of the distance between them.

“What are you doing here?” Ianto asks tiredly, blocking the doorway so that Jack is forced to stop on the front step instead. “You can’t just show up at my house at two in the morning, drunk off your arse, and without any warning. What if Dad had been home?”

“But he’s not,” Jack says with a shrug, before glancing up at the darkened windows of the upper story with a little more apprehension. “He’s not, right?”

“No.” Ianto sighs, stepping back to let Jack move into the house. This doesn’t feel like it’s about to be over any time soon, and he doesn’t need to risk a nosy neighbour spying out their windows. “You don’t have to worry about shouting fathers. This time.”

Jack’s expression falters for a moment, a spark of something that might have been fear before he grins at him. He might have imagined it, but he isn’t sure if because of his inebriation, Jack’s grin is due to finding Ianto’s exasperation amusing, or he’s just pleased at being allowed inside.

When he’s in, stumbling only a little over the door-jamb, Ianto closes the door (he feels kind of like he’s trapping himself in here, but there’s nothing to be done about it) and pushes Jack not-so-gently into the living room. Jack lets himself be pushed, his eyes roving over everything, and Ianto realises a bit belatedly that Jack has never been inside his house before.

He thinks about the obvious wealth of the Harkness home and feels suddenly defensive of his own home. He’s bracing for an insulting comment, maybe something about it being small or quaint, but Jack just keeps looking at it all. It isn’t until they get to the living room, and one more hard shove sends Jack sprawling onto the sofa, that he looks at Ianto again.

“You live here,” he says, and Ianto rolls his eyes.

“Yes, that is generally what people do in their houses. Live in them.”

“It’s…” Jack trails off for a moment as his eyes do one final sweep of the room, and Ianto braces for the dig.

“Nice,” Jack finally says, grinning at Ianto again. “I like it; it feels like a home.”

“That’s because it is one, dummy,” Ianto huffs, but inside he’s relieved and maybe feeling a tiny bit pleased.

“No,” Jack is continuing, shaking his head with a little more force than necessary. “I mean, yes it is one, but it feels like one, you know? I guess I expected you to live in, like, an ice palace or something. No colours, no emotion, no warmth. I hate houses like that.”

Ianto wants to tease him for being a rambling drunk, but honestly, he does know what Jack means. He’s been in houses like that, all show and no real warmth (the Hallett home, minus Lisa’s bedroom, springs to mind.) He also knows that at their old house that was exactly the feeling he’d tried to create in his bedroom - a cold, emotionless place that was nearly sterile. Sure, he’d called it fashionable, but the truth was back then, he’d been so overwhelmed by feelings and fears in his daily life that he’d needed a place that felt more fortress than bedroom to come back to at the end of the day.

He’s not thought about it much since they moved, but now that Jack has pointed it out, it is abundantly clear to him that this house has what their last one lacked, it has a family in it making a home instead of just shelter. Ianto thinks about his new bedroom upstairs, and though he still is a fan of grey, he also knows that his room is now filled with colours and knick-knacks and books and all these other signs of life that he had ruthlessly cut out just a few years ago.

It’s kind of startling to be faced with your own emotional growth in the middle of the night, all because your idiot fake boyfriend made an astute drunken observation.

“Hmm,” he hums in acknowledgement, not willing to share his thoughts or offer agreement even if he thinks Jack is right. “Are you going to tell me why you’re here now?”

“What, a guy can’t just visit his fake boyfriend in the middle of the night?”

“Jack,” Ianto warns, glare intensifying.

“Okay, okay, jeez,” Jack placates. “I had to come; I’m supposed to be here.”

“You have about ten seconds to start making sense before I throw you back out the door,” Ianto grits out between clenched teeth.

“I told my family I was spending the night at yours,” Jack hurries to elaborate, clearly believing the threat (it’s good that one of them does, Ianto isn’t so sure he could actually throw someone so clearly inebriated out onto the street, even if they are being annoying.)

“Okay… still not seeing the problem,” Ianto questions. “Isn’t that what you did last week? You didn’t have to actually show up here though.”

“I wasn’t going to,” Jack insists. “But, um, I may have kind of told Gray he could crash here tonight with us, because he was at a party near here and didn’t want to make the drive back so late.” This last is said in a rush of words so fast Ianto isn’t sure he’s heard them all right. He hopes he hasn’t heard them all right.

“You told Gray he could sleep here?”

“Yes.”

“Even though you weren’t planning to actually be here, because we aren’t actually boyfriends.”

“Yep.”

“Knowing that we haven’t talked at all in over a week, or made any sorts of plans or decisions about how to keep up the charade in front of your family in unexpected kinds of situations like this one?”

“Uh-huh.”

“And you didn’t feel the need to ask me, or give any sort of warning before two in the morning?”

“Um.”

“Jack!”

Any earlier modicum of affection or patience Ianto might have felt for the boy for not making fun of his home is wiped away in the face of this. He cannot believe that this is what his life is, and he also is frankly a little surprised that Jack would be so stupid as to risk their little arrangement being brough to light.

“Explain,” he insists wearily. “Please just explain to me what exactly you were thinking.”

“Yeah, okay,” Jack says hurriedly, clearly relieved at being granted a temporary reprieve. “Gray and I drove in together tonight, he had some house party he was going to, and I told him I was spending the night with you so that I could head out to meet up with some people at The Kings. He was supposed to pick me up in the morning and drive us back, and I figured I’d just be back here in time to wait out on the curb for him to come by. That way I could drink or whatever and not have to worry about driving home. You wouldn’t have even had to know I was here.”

“That still sounds risky to me,” Ianto chides, not adding that what worries him more than the risk to their ruse is the idea of Jack out all night drinking when no one knows where he is and even he doesn’t know where he’ll end up sleeping. “But in any case, it obviously went bad somehow, otherwise you wouldn’t be here.”

“Right,” Jack agrees. “I’m getting to that.”

Ianto arches an eyebrow at him, and Jack grimaces a bit but continues.

“Gray asked if he could crash here with us tonight if he didn’t end up hooking up with someone at the party. I said sure, because Gray always finds someone to hook up with, so there was like zero chance of him actually wanting to stay here. Except it seems that spending the night in your house trumps having sex for him, so he called half an hour ago to say he’d be coming by later after all.”

Jack is glaring at Ianto like this is all somehow Ianto’s faut, like he’s purposely made himself intriguing to Gray just to ruin Jack’s fun. Ianto is starting to wonder if the urge to strangle the Harkness brothers is going to become a permanent thing.

“So he’s on his way right now?” Ianto asks. He wants to throw a fit, wants to tell Jack that he screwed up and will have to find a way out of this mess himself, but he’s also really just tired, and it’s late. Plus, for the promise of £5,000, maybe having Jack and his brother sleep on the living room floor is worth it.

“Yeah, he’ll probably be here in about…” Jack pauses to look bleary-eyed at his watch. “Um, ten or fifteen minutes, I’d guess.”

“Okay,” Ianto sighs. “Fine. I will play along with this tonight, but I swear to god, Jack, if you pull this shit again, I’m kicking you out to deal with your brother and anyone else all on your own. Are we clear?”

“Crystal.” Jack grins, oh-so-pleased at having gotten his way.

“Good, then I’m going up to bed, and you can deal with Gray when he gets here. There are extra blankets and pillows in the airing cupboard for you two and just make sure that- what are you doing?!”

Ianto cuts off his own speech to whisper-shout at Jack who’s now standing up and working diligently at trying to remove both his jeans and shirt at the same time. He’s currently tangled up in his shirt sleeves with his unbuttoned jeans sliding dangerously low on his hips, and Ianto feels like he’s stuck in some kind of awful, unwanted dream.

“Um, getting undressed?” Jack asks, peeking out the neck hole of his shirt in a way that Ianto ruthlessly tells himself is not at all adorable.

“Mother of god, why?” Ianto asks. He knows he’s still whisper-shouting and that his cheeks are probably an unhealthy shade of red, but he doesn’t think he can be blamed for feeling a bit overwhelmed.

“Because I don’t sleep in my clothes?” Jack says, speaking slowly like Ianto’s the one being strange.

“Well, you do tonight,” Ianto insists, moving closer to try and tug the shirt back down over Jack’s head. When his fingers accidentally brush over the warm skin of Jack’s stomach, he pulls his hand back quickly, as if it’s been burned.

“Gray isn’t going to buy that I’m sleeping in my boyfriend’s bed with my clothes on, Ianto,” Jack insists, thought much to Ianto’s relief, he’d dropped his shirt back down to cover his chest and, for the time being at least, his jeans are still clinging to his hips.

“He won’t have to, because you aren’t sleeping in my bed,” Ianto argues. He’s so afraid of where this is going, but he’s not going to hurry them along to the obvious conclusion if he can help it.

“Ianto,” Jack says, looking at him with something akin to pity. “Of course I am, I’m supposed to be your boyfriend who is spending the night when your Dad isn’t home. I don’t know what you and Lisa used to do, but there’s nowhere else I could sleep if we were actually dating.”

“But we’re not,” Ianto insists sullenly, feeling weirdly both panicked and resigned.

“Gray doesn’t know that,” Jack reminds him softly, and Ianto hates that he’s now the one being soothed by a drunk boy.

“I don’t- I can’t… Jack, please,” Ianto pleads quietly, though he doesn’t know exactly what he’s asking for or what he thinks Jack can do about the situation.

“Look, I’ll sleep on the floor, okay? As long as I’m actually in your room, Gray won’t suspect. But you have to let me take these clothes off, because not only will it look weird if I’m fully dressed while you’re in pajamas, but they also smell like a bar. That’ll be kind of a big tip off that I haven’t been here all night.”

Ianto fidgets, tugging uncomfortably at his t-shirt as Jack’s words remind him of his own current state of dress. It had taken him months of actually dating Lisa to let her seeing him in anything less than a full outfit, and being this mussed in front of Jack feels nearly as exposed being naked (okay, not really, that would be way worse Ianto knows, but it still feels really fucking vulnerable.)

“He’s going to be able to tell you’re drunk, though,” Ianto points out, keen to stay away from the topic of his pajamas.

“We’ll tell him I had too much wine over dinner or something, it’ll be fine,” Jack insists, waving a hand in front of him as if to bat the issue away. Ianto sighs again heavily, feeling all the fight drain out of him. Now he just wants to get through the next half an hour so he can go to bed again and forget about Jack’s existence for awhile.

“Fine, but you aren’t getting naked,” Ianto insists. “Come upstairs, and we’ll find you pajamas or something.”

Jack grins lecherously at him, though he follows Ianto without complaint.

“You know, lots of people would pay good money to see me naked,” he muses, climbing the stairs behind Ianto.

“It must be so reassuring to know that you could have a back-up career, by becoming a stripper or by getting yourself an onlyfans website, that could end up supporting your family, should they ever lose their tremendous wealth,” Ianto responds drily. Jack laughs low and throaty behind him, and Ianto can feel it shivering up his spine in a way that he convinces himself is distinctly unpleasant.

“You might not do so bad with a pole yourself,” Jack whispers as they walk down the darkened upstairs hallway. “I’ve seen the videos, you know, and Fergie’s got nothing on your hips.”

He is drunk, Ianto reminds himself sternly when he feels his cheeks starting to heat up. He is drunk, and he is Jack, and he’d hit on anything in the state he’s in. He also tries really hard not to think about where Jack found those old videos, or why on earth he watched them.

“I’m not sure whether that was an insult or a compliment,” he manages to say, pleased that his voice sounds cool and detached and that the lack of light covers his blush.

“Definitely a compliment,” Jack says. “Though you’d probably have to strip in some kind of an act that let you wear a mask. Your pasty face would totally ruin the appeal, hips made for sinning or not.”

And there it is, there’s the Jack that Ianto knows. He’d be offended if he wasn’t so goddamned relieved. Jack being an arse he can totally handle, Jack maybe-sort-of-a-little-bit hitting on him? Not so much.

“I can still kick you out, you know,” he says, pushing against Jack’s shoulder to turn them into his room.

Jack looks as if he might have a comeback for that but gets distracted when Ianto flicks on the bedside lamp, bathing the room in a soft glow.

For a long minute, it is silent between them; Ianto fidgeting and feeling nervous and exposed, and Jack blinking blearily in the sudden light, his eyes roaming all around the room as if he could soak it all up through sight alone.

“I was wrong before,” Jack says after a moment, voice quiet and still a little slurred from the alcohol. He’s started to drift around the edges of the room, running his fingers over Ianto’s things. “You don’t live out there; you live here.”

Ianto itches to grab Jack’s hands and pull them away from all the things they are touching. He wants even more to insist that he’s changed his mind and Jack needs to go back downstairs after all. However, he finds himself unable to do anything but hold his breath and wait, watching with sharp eyes as Jack’s fingers trace the spines of his books, as he used the pad of a thumb to swipe across a framed photograph of Ianto, Rhiannon, and their Mum, and as he dances his fingertips over CDs, figurines, and artwork, as if he can measure Ianto by touching those things that he displays - feeling him out without ever actually coming near him.

Finally, Jack comes to a stop, having nearly completed a full circuit of the room. Ianto shifts his weight from one foot to the other and waits for judgement to fall.

“It’s not what I expected,” Jack says.

“Oh?” Ianto can’t help but ask. He has no idea what that means, feels on edge still because of it.

Jack just cocks his head to the side, looking at Ianto with the same sense of evaluation that he had imbued his fingers with moments before.

“You aren’t what I expected,” he murmurs, and that is no more explanation than before, but it’s all Ianto’s going to get.

When it is clear that Jack isn’t going to add anything more, Ianto shakes himself from his own nerves and introspection. They don’t have time for him to get Jack to explain, or for Ianto to fall apart for feeling so exposed like this. Gray is coming, and that is a whole new kind of complicated.

“Wait here,” Ianto says, pointing severely at Jack who is swaying a little where he stands. “Don’t touch anything else, don’t move. I’m going to find you something to sleep in.”

Jack just nods and stands as still as he’s able as Ianto walks over to his closet and starts hunting for another pair of trackies and a t-shirt. He manages to unearth a matching pair to the ones he is wearing, and a black t-shirt with ‘Team Free Will’ written in the corner over a fake pocket. Jack would probably get a kick out of that. Jack is broader in the chest than he is, due to his more muscular build, but luckily, the shirt is a bit big on him. When he turns back around, Jack is exactly where he left him, just swaying a little with his eyes closed, which is a relief. He half expected to find the other boy either rooting through his most personal items or stripping down again.

“Here, you can wear these,” he says, thrusting the garments at Jack.

Jack blinks his eyes open slowly, and Ianto lets his own drop. Jack takes the clothes without comment though, and waits until Ianto has turned his back to start undressing.

“Are you a Lacrosse fan?” Jack asks after he’s been rustling around behind Ianto for a moment (which Ianto is trying really hard not to think about, because he knows those are the sounds of undressing which means Jack is getting nearly naked in his bedroom and again, Ianto can’t handle that right now.)

“What?”

“Are you a lacrosse fan?” Jack repeats. “Your shirt, it says Beacon Hills Lacrosse on it.”

Ianto looks down at the printing on his t-shirt even though he already knows what it says.

“I try to watch some of it, where I can. It’s mainly a reference to an American show called Teen Wolf. About teenage werewolves, mostly, if you couldn’t guess. Their high school’s main sport was lacrosse; they were all lacrosse players.” He feels awkward trying to explain himself but he’s surprised Jack has never seen it. That much eye candy in one place? Jack wouldn’t seem the type to be able to resist.

“Really?” Jack asks. “Is it any good? I’ve been needing a new show to watch.”

Ianto nods, “Yeah. It has a pretty good storyline, but, not going to lie, I mainly stayed for the insanely attractive cast.”

“Sounds right up my alley,” Jack muses, and he’s stopped rustling so Ianto thinks it’s probably safe to run around. “You know, my Dad used to play lacrosse at university.”

It is, much to his relief, though seeing Jack in too-tight clothing, and clothing that is his own, is kind of unnerving.

“Oh yeah?” he asks, mostly to distract himself from his own thoughts.

“Mmhmm,” Jack hums in confirmation. “You probably shouldn’t ever mention that you’re a fan to him, though.”

“Why not?”

“Because he’s already pretty much in love with you,” Jack says, and he’s smiling like it could be a joke but the look in his eye says he means it. “If you give him much more to gush about, he’ll have our wedding planned before you can say, ‘We’re just fake boyfriends.’”

Ianto gives a nervous laugh. His stomach feels knotted up at the admission, just a ball of confused feelings that he doesn’t have the energy or time to sort. He’ll just throw it on the pile to examine later, right along with things like that damn kiss. He’s saved from having to answer by the sound of quiet knuckles rapping on wood drifting up though the house, sending them both into action, moving quickly down the stairs before Gray knocks again.

Ianto’s a bit breathless when he reaches the door from the dash, and it doesn’t get any easier to catch his breath again when he opens it to find Gray leaning against the frame, looking long and gorgeous and dangerous.

“Hey sweetheart,” Gray drawls, smiling at Ianto and revealing a glint of perfect white teeth, set off against tan skin. “Did you miss me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks as always to my cheerleader temporalsilence and my beta princessoftheworlds !
> 
> i'm hoping you're liking Gray as much as i'm enjoying writing him!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gray arrives on the doorstep of the Jones household.

Gray looks sinful.

There is no other word for him, leaning against Ianto’s door in the middle of the night, dressed completely in black; tight black jeans, even tighter black v-neck, and - just in case the image wasn’t appealing enough already - motorcycle boots as well, which Ianto can’t help but drool over, and only partly because he wants to own them.

Ianto forces himself to keep his eyes on Gray’s face (after just a tiny once-over) and takes a deep breath in through his nose. When he speaks, his voice is mostly steady. He can feel Jack crowding up behind him, and with Gray stretched out in front, he’s feeling an awful lot like the meat in a Harkness brother sandwich (and god, even he can’t deny the image that brings to mind is fucking pornographic, which he definitely does not need to be thinking about right now.)

“Gray,” he says when he’s sure his voice won’t do something stupid, like sound dangerously close to turned on. “Come in.”

He tries to step back, to give Gray the room to actually come inside, but Jack doesn’t move at all so he ends up pressing back against the boy behind him. Jack doesn’t seem bothered by it; in fact, much to Ianto’s horror, he just slips an arm low around Ianto’s waist and pulls him back closer. He hooks his chin over Ianto’s shoulder, so that he can give Gray a smug smile. Ianto is sure his face is burning.

“Yeah, Gray, come on in,” Jack echoes, his arm tightening just a little.

Gray takes in the display, his smile getting wider than before, and he shoots Ianto a wink before sliding past them and into the house.

Jack turns them both, and Ianto is relieved when the arm around his waist disappears. It’s a short-lived relief though, because Jack just slings it around his shoulders, pulling Ianto in until they are pressed hip-t- hip instead. The move is so blatantly possessive that Ianto feels exasperation fast replacing any embarrassment he might have initially felt. The fact that Jack feels the need to declare ownership of Ianto in front of his big brother, when less than half an hour ago, he was stumbling out of the back of a car and away from a random hookup, is ridiculous and a little annoying.

Ianto shoves Jack aside enough to slip out from under his arm, rolling his eyes at the disgruntled look that earns him. Gray just continues to look amused.

“Thanks for letting me crash here, Ianto,” he says, still eyeing his brother who is trying to shuffle back in closer to where Ianto is standing.

“It’s fine,” Ianto responds, trying to keep his voice polite instead of the mix of flustered and frustrated he’s actually feeling.

“Really, you didn’t have to, though, and I appreciate it,” Gray insists, and Ianto watches as he steps closer, though his eyes are firmly fixed on his brother. Ianto can feel Jack stepping in closer as Gray does, which makes Gray smile again like he just got the result he was expecting in an experiment.

“And really, it’s fine,” Ianto repeats, stepping to the side so he’s no longer between the boys and their ridiculous advances. “I’d rather you slept here than drove back tired anyway.”

Even though the whole situation is far from ideal, Ianto does mean it. He’d hate to think of something happening to Gray, especially if he could prevent it by letting the guy crash on his couch for a night. It’s just one more piece of proof that he’s already too invested in the damn family, but it’s too late to do anything about it now. Ianto can’t just switch it off, even if it’d make his life easier.

“Are you saying you’d worry about me, Ianto?” Gray asks, something a little wicked in the tilt of his lips. “Because I can stay here every night if it’d make you feel better to have me nearby.”

Jack growls something low, and Ianto is really getting a bit tired of the game. He thinks it’d probably be more flattering if he could believe it was really about him instead of this weird brotherly competition thing they’ve got going on. But then Gray turns that smile on him fully, looking at Ianto like it really is about him, and Ianto can’t help but feel slightly flattered after all. He’s only human.

“Can I um… can I get you anything before I-I mean we - before we go to bed?” he asks, hating himself for stuttering, and barely managing to catch the slip-up. And shit, as if this situation isn’t crazy enough, he’s now really realising that he’s going to have to go back to his room with Jack any minute now and then try and sleep with that boy just feet away and the other one right downstairs. When the hell did this become his life?

“Running off to bed already?” Gray asks, putting on a pout. “I was hoping we could all stay up and chat for awhile.”

“Sorry, bro, but I tired Ianto out earlier,” Jack says, finally managing to sneak back up behind Ianto and reach for him again. Ianto tries to shrug the arm around him off once more, but this time, Jack is ready for it and doesn’t let him go.

Gray arches an eyebrow and looks between them, as if trying to figure out if the innuendo is just more posturing. He lets his eyes give Ianto a long once-over too, and Ianto is pretty sure he’s being mentally undressed by someone he’s known for less than two weeks, which is definitely a first. Part of him wonders ruefully where all the guys like Gray were when he was going through his self-doubting phase, but a larger part is thinking he should probably put a stop to all the ogling before Jack actually flips out. The arm around him is already starting to tighten, and Jack is just squeezing more with every inch that Gray lets his eyes wander.

“You know what, you can both still end up sleeping in the back garden,” Ianto says, finally managing to push Jack away once more and snapping his fingers in front of Gray’s face until he pulls his eyes back up to Ianto’s face guiltily. “If you’re going to act like kids, I have no problem sending you out.”

They both finally seem to snap out of the little dance they’re doing and stare at Ianto with twin looks of open disbelief and worry.

“You wouldn’t,” Gray says.

“We could die from exposure,” Jack adds sincerely.

“It’s summer; you’d be fine. Uncomfortable, but fine,” Ianto asserts. “And considering you’re both doing your best to make me uncomfortable right now, I think it’d only be fair if I return the favour.”

Gray looks instantly sorry, but Jack is still pouting like he wants to argue the point.

“Try me,” Ianto says, eyes locked firmly on Jack’s own.

Jack stares back for a moment, eyes still glazed a bit from the drinking and clearly trying to decide if it’s worth the risk. Eventually, he’s the one to back down, breaking the gaze.

“Good,” Ianto says. “I’d hate to have to tell your mother that you ended up sleeping in the garden for being idiots.”

“Oh, it’d be much worse if you told River,” Gray says, though he shuts up quickly when Jack elbows him in the stomach.

“He doesn’t mean that,” Jack says hurriedly. “You absolutely should not think about telling River, because she wouldn't care at all.”

“Mmhmm,” Ianto hums, voice a little gleeful at the unexpected information. “Sure thing. I’ll make sure to remember that, don’t ever tell River when you two are being stupid. Because she wouldn’t care at all.”

They both nod in agreement so quickly that Ianto is tempted to call River right now just to see how bad it would be for them if he did tell. But it’s now three in the morning, and so far River’s been really sweet to him so he’s not going to push it by waking her up. He’s been made well aware of how annoying that can be, after all. Besides, this way he has something to threaten them with if they keep acting like idiots.

“Alright, then as long as you both behave, I suppose you can sleep inside. But we are going to bed now,” he says. “To sleep, Gray,” he adds when the older boy leers at him scandalously.

“You’re cute when you’re flustered, did you know that?” Gray asks.

“I’m always cute,” Ianto says, pulling a startled little laugh from the other boy. “Now, if you’re done flirting with me to try and get a rise out of your brother, I’ll go get you a pillow so we can all go to sleep before the sun comes up, okay?”

“Pretty sure you’re the one getting a rise out of my brother,” Gray drawls, and Ianto knows his cheeks are heating again, but he can’t help it.

Gray laughs but doesn’t push it any further. Instead, he turns to punch Jack in the arm, Ianto assumes in retaliation for the earlier elbow. Jack shouts a protest at that before hitting back twice as hard. In seconds, the two of them are grappling at each other, getting in sharp hits wherever they can and laughing through the whole thing.

Ianto takes the distraction, and leaves them to their tussle to fetch the extra blankets and pillows from the airing cupboard in the hallway. By the time he gets back, Jack is sitting innocently on the couch while Gray wanders the edges of the living room, looking over the pictures on the walls and whistling quietly under his breath. Ianto can see red patches on their arms from where they’ve been hitting each other, and Jack keeps rubbing at his bicep and wincing slightly, but they are both smiling too. Ianto wonders idly if this is normal between brothers. Growing up only with a sister, their fights had mainly been verbal.

“Is this from your last day of school?” Gray asks suddenly, pulling Ianto from his thoughts. He’s pointing at a collage of photos on the wall.

“What gave it away?” Ianto asks sarcastically. “No wait, don’t tell me, it was the extra shirts worn with lots of signatures on them, right?”

“Oooh, he’s feisty Jack, I like it,” Gray teases, making Jack frown again though Ianto just rolls his eyes.

“Yes, it was our last day,” Ianto says unnecessarily, though it distracts Gray from teasing his little brother, which was kind of Ianto’s intention.

He moves to stand next to Gray so that he can look over the pictures too. They make something ache deep in Ianto’s chest to look at, taken just weeks ago but already seeming like a lifetime away. So much has changed since then, and so much is still changing.

“If you make one crack about how bad my hair looks in any of those, I will have no qualms following through on my earlier threat of making you sleep outside,” Ianto grumbles softly, not letting himself dwell on his feelings. “I got caught out in the rain, and no amount of trying to dry your hair underneath a hand dryer can make it go back to normal.”

“I like it messy,” Gray says, smiling over at Ianto and letting his eyes flick up. “Case in point,” he adds and ruffles at Ianto’s hair. Ianto is too stricken by the sudden reminder that he’s been wandering around with bedhead for the last hour to even bat his hand away. Ianto’s hair is naturally curly and poofs out without careful brushing and product. He hates it.

“How come Jack’s not in any of these?” Gray asks, looking back to the photos.

“My last day was the previous day,” Jack says quickly, just as Ianto says, “My dad doesn’t know we’re dating.”

They stare at each other in blind panic for a moment before speaking again at the same time again.

“I mean, Jack didn’t have any exams that day…”

“Ianto’s dad is still awkward about the whole bisexual thing, so we just haven’t…”

They stall out again, and Ianto is sure this is the moment the whole lie is going to start falling apart, but Gray cuts in before he can blurt out any more information that might condemn them.

“It’s cool, guys; you don’t have to tell me about not wanting to tell the parents about who you’re dating right away. Lord knows I’ve dated some people that I wasn’t sure about introducing to the folks.”

“It isn’t like that,” Ianto says immediately, suddenly uncomfortably aware that Gray thinks he’s ashamed of Jack. And Jack might not be his favourite person, and he may not actually be dating the guy, but Ianto knows all too well the feeling of someone being ashamed of who you are, and he wouldn’t wish that on his worst enemy (which, he’s surprised to realise in his own mind, isn’t what Jack is anymore either.)

“Oh no?” Gray asks. “It’s fine, Ianto; I know my brother well enough to not be offended on his behalf, he isn’t exactly meet-the-parents material. I won’t tell my parents that yours don’t know either, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“No, it really isn’t,” Ianto insists. “And I think I’m kind of offended on your brother’s behalf right now that you think I ought to be embarrassed of him.”

Gray looks a little stunned and guilty, and when Jack moves up next to Ianto to put an arm around his shoulders again, Ianto doesn’t shrug it off for once.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Gray says sincerely. Jack is still mostly relaxed at his side so Ianto figures he’s not too upset.

“Good,” Ianto says. “Because it isn’t like that. Jack and I just have some… history, I guess. So I was just waiting until things got a little more serious before I told my parents. I’m going to tell them soon.”

He’s not sure when he started being able to lie quite so easily, but the words flow off his tongue without so much as a second thought. If Ianto didn’t know better, he’d believe they were really dating.

“Oh, um, good then,” Gray says and turns back to the photos quickly, obviously hoping to avoid any more awkwardness.

“It’s okay, Gray,” Jack teases. “I know none of your conquests have ever wanted to introduce you to daddy before, so I can see how you might have assumed.”

“Fuck you, little brother,” Gray replies, but the tension finally drops away from his stance. Jack seems to be appeased as well, because the arm around Ianto drops too.

Ianto is just starting to relax himself, sure another near miss has been averted, when Gray goes absolutely still next to him.

“Gray?” he asks, when the other boy doesn’t even so much as breathe for a few seconds.

Gray doesn’t say anything, and Ianto follows his gaze to see what’s gotten the reaction. All that he sees is a picture in the upper right hand corner of the collage, of he and Lisa smiling at the camera, with Ricky snuck up behind them giving them both bunny ears. For a minute, Ianto is sure that something in the photograph must make it clear that he and Lisa were still dating at that point, and that’s what’s thrown Gray off. Gray quickly rids him of that worry.

“Is that… that’s Ricky Hallett,” he says softly after a minute, his hand coming up to hover just above the photo as if he could almost reach out and touch the man in it.

“Yeah,” Ianto says. “You used to know each other, didn’t you?”

Gray lets out a little pained sounding, choked-off laugh. “You could say that.”

Ianto turns to Jack looking for some kind of explanation for the weird reaction, but Jack is looking at his brother, as if afraid Gray is about to break.

“Oh, um, have you two kept in touch?” Ianto asks after another minute of silence, because he just has no idea what he’s supposed to do or say here.

“No,” Gray responds, and his voice is still quiet and a bit sad. “No, we haven’t. When it ended, it wasn’t very… well, let’s just say it ended.”

Ianto wants to ask for more details about what ‘it’ is, because Jack’s told him about the kissing and the friendship, but Gray is making it sound like a lot more than that. He doesn’t ask though, because he can hear something in Gray’s voice that is so familiar to that sore spot in his own heart.

“So that must be Li-Li,” Gray adds a moment later, pointing at her in the photo. “She grew up good, huh?”

“Li-Li?” Ianto can’t help but ask, smiling a little. “I thought only Rick called her that.”

Gray looks momentarily pained again at Ianto shortening Ricky’s name, but he replaces it with a smile quickly. To his credit, it only looks a little forced.

“Yeah, I guess I picked it up from him,” Gray admits. “Ricky loved to tell me stories about his baby sibling. Considering I thought mine was the biggest pain in the ass at the time, it was a bit of a novelty hearing about someone else actually liking their youngest sibling.”

“Did you know Lisa back then?” Ianto asks Jack, surprise colouring his features and tone. As far as he’d known Jack and Lisa had only met at secondary school, same as him.

“No, we didn’t go to the same junior school, as you know,” Jack says. “And our families never hung out.”

Ianto’s head is spinning from all these hints at a past he is just starting to realise is more complicated than he ever could have guessed, but now is not the time to ask.

“How’d you meet Lisa?” Gray asks Ianto, finally tearing his eyes away from the photograph.

“At secondary school,” Ianto tells him.

“You go to secondary school with Ricky Hallett’s little sister, and you didn’t tell me?” Gray asks Jack, looking at him reprovingly.

“Didn’t think to,” Jack says, shrugging.

There’s more to that too, Ianto is sure, Jack’s not telling Gray about Lisa’s presence in his life, but again Ianto knows now is not the time to ask

“I’m surprised they didn’t put her in private school,” Gray admits. “Public school only produces queer kids, you know?” His tone is bitter.

Ianto bites his lip. “They nearly did but she started dating a guy, so they allowed her to stay.”

Gray arches an eyebrow in clear expectation of a better explanation.

“She was caught making out with a girl in the showers,” Jack says finally, when Ianto doesn’t elaborate. The irony isn’t lost on history repeating itself. “But she was allowed to stay once she started dating Ianto.”

There is something in Jack’s tone that Ianto can’t place. He wonders if it is lingering disappointment at the fact that had Ianto not been dating Lisa, Jack might have gotten his shot at dating her. It doesn’t feel like it is either of those things, but it is a little bitter nonetheless. More questions that he may never have the answer to, Ianto figures.

“Oh really?” Gray is looking at Ianto with a new interest, head tilted to the side in a way that reminds Ianto of how Jack had looked at him in his room earlier.

“Yeah,” Ianto says. “We’re… we used to date.”

It is the first time he’s had to really say those words - past tense - out loud, he realises belatedly. He feels a little numb at them.

“Not a bad break up then?” Gray asks, looking briefly at the photos again. “I mean, you look like you’re still friends in the photos.”

“Yeah,” Ianto says again. “She’s my best friend.”

Jack stiffens a little next to him, and Gray is giving him that appraising look once more, but Ianto doesn’t care. Lisa is his best friend, and he’s not going to lie about that for the sake of this whole fake-boyfriend thing. It’s not like he’s not allowed to be friends with someone if he’s dating Jack, so they can all just live with it.

“Interesting,” Gray murmurs finally.

“Whatever, Lisa’s in the past,” Jack says lightly a moment later. “Right, babe?”

Ianto turns hard eyes on him, thinking Jack is poking fun at him privately, but is surprised to find a little bit of a challenge in the other boy’s gaze. He’s not sure what the challenge is about, but it is definitely there.

“Yep,” Ianto says tightly. “The past.”

Jack looks pleased.

“Aww, is Jack a little bit jealous?” Gray asks.

“Never,” Jack asserts immediately. “Nothing to be jealous about, is there Ianto?”

Ianto is about to give him another terse agreement, but Jack makes the fatal mistake of trying to tousle his hair.

“If you touch my hair, there might be,” he growls, batting the hand away. Jack looks mortally offended, and Gray is laughing again.

“You let Gray touch it!” Jack complains.

“Gray doesn’t know any better. You ought to.”

Jack is still pouting, but Ianto feels like some of the tension in the room at the talk of the Hallett siblings has lifted at least, now that the subject seems to be closed.

“Tell you what, Jack,” Gray says companionably, bumping shoulders with his brother. “How about you get to touch the hair, and I get to touch all the parts of Ianto that are currently available to only your wandering hands, hmm?”

“And I suppose I get no say in that arrangement?” Ianto asks, folding his arms in mock indignation.

“Oh, I’m sure I can make you say a lot,” Gray promises lewdly, wiggling his eyebrows. “We’ll start with ‘Oh god’ and ‘Yes, Gray, please yes.’ How does that sound?”

“That sounds like my cue to take my boyfriend back to bed,” Jack cuts in, shoving at his brother playfully. “And for the record? We’ve already covered the ‘Oh god’ and the ‘please yes’ this evening. And my name? Sounds a lot better from his lips than yours ever would.”

Gray laughs and throws his hands up in surrender. “Fair enough. Though if you’d ever like to test that theory, I’m more than happy to help you two experiment.”

“You are both terrible people,” Ianto declares, but he can’t help but smile along with them. It’s nice to see them tease without the tension for once, even if it is about him.

Gray grins at him, and even Jack gives him a fond little smile.

“Blankets and a pillow,” he says to Gray, pointing at the pile on the couch. It seems like it’s probably a good time to call it a (very very late) night, before things get weird again. “The kitchen is through there if you need water or anything, and the toilet is at the end of the hall.”

“Thanks,” Gray says with an honest smile, for once devoid of any flirty intentions. Ianto smiles back, because as much as he might enjoy some of the flirting, it’s nice to see that Gray can turn it off.

“If you need anything, I’m the second door on the right upstairs,” he adds, stepping back to head toward the stairs.

“Knock first,” Jack adds with a wink. Ianto thinks about smacking him for it and then realises whether Jack’s thought it through or not, it’s actually not a bad thing to say. They’ll need some warning if Jack’s going to sleep on the floor and not get caught out.

He smacks Jack on the arm anyway, just because he can, and grins when it gets him another offended pout.

“C’mon, dummy, it’s bedtime,” he says, and can’t keep the fondness out of his voice. Jack huffs but follows when Ianto moves towards the stairs again.

“You aren’t being very nice to me,” Jack mumbles, rubbing at his arm where Ianto hit it, but doesn’t push the matter when Ianto just rolls his eyes. Gray is still laughing at them when they walk out of the room.

Jack doesn’t say much else at all really, which Ianto is surprised at, and also a little grateful for. The late hour and lack of sleep is catching up with him, and he’s not really in the right state of mind for any more banter. There are too many unsaid things, too much in their past, hovering between them still for it to come easily at the moment anyway.

Instead, they just move in a quiet tandem with each other, working to strip the duvet off the end of Ianto’s bed, tossing it and an extra pillow on the floor between the bed and wall. Jack doesn’t even complain about having to sleep on the floor, and Ianto thinks maybe the drinking is catching up to him finally, making him sleepy and slow.

In any case, Jack settles in without complaint even though it can’t be all that comfortable, and just mumbles a soft ‘goodnight’ when Ianto switches off the bedside lamp.

“Goodnight,” Ianto returns, just as quietly.

For a few minutes, the darkness feels unbearably intimate. Ianto can hear Jack breathing and tries to keep his own breaths steady and calm even as all his earlier nerves and vulnerable worries about having Jack here, in his room, are returning. Soon though, Jack starts to quietly snore, and it breaks the tension, making Ianto feel like laughing, both at the sound and in relief.

His own exhaustion overwhelms him quickly enough, and a few minutes later, he drifts off as well. Just before he surrenders to dreams, he thinks that if it wasn’t so weird, it might actually be nice falling asleep next to someone again.

\-----

Ianto’s not sure what wakes him later, but when he blinks open blurry eyes, it isn’t quite morning yet. He can see just the faintest red glow out of his window, so sunrise can’t be far off, but the room is still mostly dark. Well, except for the glow of a mobile phone screen that illuminates Jack, sitting at Ianto’s desk and staring intently at the device in his hand.

“Jack?” Ianto asks, voice scratchy with sleep. “What are you doing?”

Jack glances up, and the look on his face pulls Ianto a bit further out of his sleepy state. The other boy looks legitimately upset, maybe even a bit angry. Ianto doesn’t quite know his expressions well enough anymore to be sure.

“Lisa’s an idiot,” Jack says by way of answering, staring hard at Ianto.

“O-kay,” Ianto says, drawing the word out in question. “What brought that observation on?”

Jack waves the phone in his hand at Ianto, and Ianto realises that it’s actually his phone that Jack is holding.

“Hey!” He half lunges from the bed, getting tangled up in the sheet in the process and nearly falling out instead. “You can’t just go through someone’s phone!”

Jack waves him off, as if it’s neither here nor there, and moves to sit next to Ianto on the bed. Ianto would argue against the new seating arrangement, but he’s too focused on snatching his phone back and trying to figure out what exactly Jack has been looking at. He sees his text history open, all his conversations with Lisa over the last few weeks displayed, including plenty of discussion about the impending break-up.

“You had no right,” he says quietly, feeling defensive and exposed. “No right. This is private, Jack, and I know you don’t have the best grasp on the meaning of the word, but you should know better.”

“Did you hear me?” Jack asks, ignoring Ianto’s admonition. “I said Lisa’s an idiot.”

“I heard you just fine,” Ianto snaps, holding the phone close to his chest as if he can, even now, hide the information that Jack has obviously already seen. “She’s not an idiot.”

“She dumped you because she thought it would strengthen your relationship, Ianto. I stand by my assessment.”

“She didn’t dump me; we’re just on a break,” Ianto mumbles, knowing how stupid those words sound, which only makes the fact that they are the truth seem even worse.

“Oh, so you commonly have to take a break from spending time with those you love, do you?” Jack mocks. “Bet you can’t wait to get away from your family when you move in September, hmm? Since you love them so much.”

Ianto feels anger and humiliation heating his face, because of course he doesn’t want to leave his family. In fact, it is the one thing that kills him about the idea of moving to London, leaving his Mum. But Jack using that against him is just not fair, and he hates that Jack’s argument sounds so logical to him, when he’s spent weeks and weeks convincing himself of the logic of Lisa’s plan.

Jack isn’t done either. His eyes cast around the room before his gaze lands on the insert for one of Ianto’s Bring Me The Horizon CDs. “Or… or, I bet you make sure to only listen to your Bring Me The Horizon CDs once every few months, since you love it so much, right?”

He tosses the insert back on Ianto’s bedside table and snatches up a picture of Ianto and Tosh with their arms around each other outside the Science Museum from when they visited London a few months before.

“And what about your friends?” he asks, voice loud and angry. Ianto is glad for the thick walls in the house, otherwise he’d have to worry about their voices waking Rhiannon or Gray.

“You must hate having to spend so much time with all of them,” Jack continues. “Man, it must be awful not having been able to take a break from them, what with how you all love each other to the point where, it’s frankly, a bit disgusting.”

Ianto feels the burn of tears, feels his heart aching, because Jack is voicing all the things he’s been trying to pretend he hasn’t been thinking for the past month and a half.

“It’s not the same,” Ianto argues, though his heart isn’t really in it. “This is about Lisa and I testing our limits, so we don’t hurt each other later on.”

“It’s hurting you now, Ianto,” Jack insists, eyes still flashing with frustration, and a temper only fueled even more by the lingering effects of alcohol in his system. “Why are you letting her hurt you now?”

“We agreed, it wasn’t just her…” Ianto tries, but he can’t bring himself to put enough conviction in his words to make them even halfway believable. God, he doesn’t want to cry right now.

“Bullshit,” Jack says, and his voice is quieter but it still has a righteous edge. “I read the texts, Ianto. There are weeks of you hinting around if there isn’t any other way to do it, and every single time, she’s the one who insists it’s for the best.”

“It’s not like she wants to hurt me, though!” Ianto nearly yells back, feeling his breaking point drawing near. He can’t let himself just agree with Jack on this, he can’t. It’ll hurt too much to acknowledge that Jack is right. “It isn’t about breaking up, not really. She’s just leaving for the summer, but then she’s coming back to me. She loves me. She’s only doing it because she loves me, and then she’s coming back.”

“That just makes it worse,” Jack insists. “If she’s really doing it for what she thinks are good reasons, she’s even more of an idiot that I’m giving her credit for.”

“Stop calling her an idiot!” Ianto shouts back. “You can’t just pass judgement on this; you don’t get to decide what’s right for us because you don’t even know us!”

“I know Lisa,” Jack says, voice low but still furious. “And I thought I was starting to know you again. But if you actually buy into this bull, then maybe I don’t know you anymore after all.”

“If you know her, you know she’d never do something hurtful if she didn’t think she had a good reason. You’d know she’s doing it because she loves me.” Ianto hopes if he says the words aloud enough, they will somehow soothe his heartache. The worst part is, he knows what he’s saying is true, but it is still stupid and painful and unfair. He just can’t let himself think about those parts.

“Like I said, idiot,” Jack confirms. “Who the hell does that? Who tells someone they’re leaving them because they love them?”

“Haven’t you ever heard ‘if you love something, let it go?’” Ianto responds weakly.

“Yeah, and whoever said that was an idiot, too,” Jack asserts. “If you love something, you hold onto it as tight as you fucking can, and you make damn sure it doesn’t ever want to go.”

“How would you know anything about love?!” Ianto hurls out, lashing out in fragility.

Jack’s eyes flash with something that looks a lot like pain, but just as quickly, anger is replacing it once more, and Ianto can almost convince himself that he imagined it.

“I don’t have to know about love to know that this is stupid,” Jack finally says, and Ianto can hear an undertone of pain in his voice. It is enough to stop Ianto’s own anger, leaving him feeling nothing but drained and disheartened.

“She’s trying to do what’s best,” he manages to whisper, though it sounds lame to his own ears.

“Well, her best is really fucking shitty, then,” Jack says firmly. “And you deserve better than that.”

Ianto can’t even feel shocked at the words, because he’s too busy trying to stop himself from breaking, to stop the tears from actually spilling over. He manages a half shrug and refuses to meet Jack’s eyes.

“Hey,” Jack says, shoving at Ianto’s shoulder until Ianto looks up. “You deserve better.”

“Why do you even care?” Ianto whispers, looking down again, not able to stand the compassion in those blue eyes boring into him. “You hate me; you spent months trying to get Lisa to ditch me. This should thrill you.”

“Yeah, well, maybe I was an idiot, too,” Jack mutters. “No one deserves to get dumped for such a stupid reason, not even someone as annoying as you.”

“Gee, thanks,” Ianto says, but he’s smiling a little again which he figures is an improvement over the near tears of a few seconds ago. “And to think, for a second there, I thought you might actually be nice to me.”

“Never,” Jack denies, grinning at him now, his face open and kind in a way that makes Ianto feel better than a million mugs of coffee, or days of Tosh-cuddles ever could. He pushes at Ianto’s shoulder again until Ianto laughs.

“I’m on to you, Harkness,” Ianto manages to tease, his voice only a little rough from those unshed tears. “You aren’t actually as much of an arsehole as you’d like everyone to believe.”

“I am so an arsehole,” Jack argues. “I’m just still a bit drunk, and I have a particular dislike for idiots, that’s all. Believe me, by the time I wake up tomorrow, I’m going to be hating you again.”

“Good,” Ianto says. “Because I plan on hating you when I wake up, too.”

“Good,” Jack agrees. “Then we’re in agreement. But since you maybe don’t hate me so much right this minute, how about you let me sleep in the bed? The floor is really fucking hard.”

Ianto feels like maybe he should say no, but he’s feeling sleepy again, and his early morning state of mind and Jack’s words have lulled him back into a state of quiet peace, so he shrugs and nods instead.

“Okay, but if you drool on my pillows, you are buying me a whole new sheet set,” he threatens, scooting over to make a bit more room.

“Sure thing, tiger,” Jack says, rolling his eyes fondly. He scoops the pillow off the floor and puts it down beside Ianto’s own.

Ianto stiffens for a moment when Jack first slips underneath the sheet with him, toes brushing just briefly over Ianto’s calf. Jack settles on his back a moment later though, letting his eyes close and leaving enough space between them that Ianto is able to relax. He’ll probably have to add this to the pile of moments to analyse tomorrow, but right now, it all feels easy and maybe even a little nice, laying here with someone else.

“Why were you even looking at my phone, anyway?” he asks sleepily after a minute of silence.

“I wanted to see how bad you were at sexting,” Jack admits, smiling wider when Ianto makes an indignant little noise.

“I don’t sext,” Ianto insists, face reddening. Jack’s eyes stay closed though, do he doesn’t see, thank God.

“I figured that out, thanks,” Jack says wryly. “I was sure you did, though, what with all your talk about joint nightly skincare routines that day you saw me and Lisa at the coffee shop.”

“What’s wrong with good skincare?” Ianto grumbled, letting his own eyes close so that they are both just speaking into the hushed darkness between them. Lisa had taught him the wonders of good skincare. He hadn’t gone back since.

“Nothing, in theory,” Jack admits. “It’s just you’re the only seventeen-year old-guy in the world who can say ‘rigorous skin-sloughing routine’ and not be talking about masturbating.”

Ianto can’t help but blink his eyes open again at that, because he’s now apparently laying in bed with Jack Harkness talking about masturbation, and he has to make sure this isn’t just the most fucked up sex dream he’s ever had. Jack lets his own eyes drift open, and the intimacy of staring at each other just inches away, makes Ianto’s next words come out more softly than he intended.

“I’m also the only seventeen year old guy with good skin. Make fun of me all you want, but we both know my skin is amazing because of my routine.”

“Yeah, it kinda is,” Jack agrees, turning on his side to look more fully at Ianto.

He raises one of his hands towards Ianto’s face, slowly as if to give Ianto the chance to pull away, but Ianto couldn’t move even if he wanted to. He’s having a hard enough time remembering to breathe.

Jack lets the hand hover just above Ianto’s cheek for a second, and when Ianto doesn’t flinch, he lets it drop, caressing Ianto’s skin oh-so-softly with just the tips of his fingers. They drift across Ianto’s cheekbone, moving down to trace over his jawline, before Jack turns his hand to repeat the motion using the back of his fingers instead.

Ianto knows he’s breathing shallow and quick, but he can’t do anything about it. Jack’s fingers are cool against his heated skin, leaving little tingling trails of feeling in their wake.

When Jack’s fingers reach Ianto’s chin a second time, he lets his thumb lift up to pull at Ianto’s lower lip softly, his hand splaying out to cup Ianto’s face. It is just the briefest brush and catch, but Ianto feels like his nerves are firing on overdrive and his brain is short-circuiting. He feels like he’s just waiting for something inevitable, bracing for Jack to lean in closer.

Jack doesn’t move in though, just lets his thumb trace over Ianto’s lip a few times before pulling away. He stares at Ianto for a second, and Ianto can feel his millions of questions and conflicting emotions reflected back at him in Jack’s eyes. It feels like another moment with the potential to be something more. But Jack breaks the gaze after a few long seconds, laughing harshly and scrubbing a hand over his face as he rolls onto his back once again.

“Fuck, I’m so drunk,” he says, even though his voice isn’t slurring anymore. “Can we just forget that happened, please? I’m going to be hating life enough as it is in the morning, I don’t need to add this to it.”

“Yeah, of course,” Ianto says, shaking off the weird mood and laughing a little wryly himself. “Honestly, I was just getting ready to kick you back to the floor for getting fresh, so it’s a good thing you came to your senses.”

“Getting fresh? Really, Ianto? What are you, eighty?”

“Says the guy who wears cable knit sweaters that even my grandad wouldn’t touch.”

“I’ll have you know the grandad look is very in this year,” Jack argues, imbuing his voice with as much authority as possible.

“You really don’t want to argue fashion with me, Harkness. I hear enough from the girls to know better.”

Jack laughs loudly at that, rolling back onto his side to grin at Ianto, who is smiling just as hugely. And just like that, balance is restored.

Ianto lets all the familiarity of the teasing rush back in to quiet his mind, forcing every other thought down until all the intense and unexpected emotions of the past half an hour dull to a quiet roar in the recesses of his subconscious. There are just some things he isn’t ready to think about, not right now. He is okay with that, okay with letting this, at least, stay easy for a little while longer, when everything else is hard.

They smile at each other for another minute, before Ianto has to stifle a yawn.

“Goodnight again, Ianto,” Jack murmurs then, letting his eyes roam over Ianto’s face. He has a tiny smile on his lips, but it feels affectionate instead of teasing.

“Goodnight,” Ianto whispers back, returning the smile tentatively. He suspects this whole thing is just going to be one of those weird early morning moments that burst like a soap bubble under the light of day, but for the moment, it is enough. More than that, it is, perhaps, exactly the kind of thing he has needed to soothe a part of him that has been desperately hurt by the events of the last month.

He lets himself close his eyes first, doesn’t let himself think about the trust implicit in that action. He can’t be sure if Jack closes his eyes as well, but he feels safe anyway. It is something he never expected to feel again with Jack within a hundred yards of him, but that doesn’t make it any less real.

“Hey, Jack?” he whispers right before he drifts back into sleep.

“Hmm?” Jack murmurs back.

“Thank you.”

Jack doesn’t acknowledge the words, but that’s okay. Ianto knows he understands.

Ianto lets himself sink back into slumber, more peaceful than any he’s had in days, just as the sun peeks over the horizon. Beside him, Jack lets himself sleep too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks as always to my cheerleader temporalsilence and my beta princessoftheworlds !
> 
> this was a little angsty but i hope the ending made up for it :')


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ianto wakes up to Jack in his bed and Gray downstairs on the sofa. Rhiannon is at home.

Ianto wakes up to a room flooded with sunshine and a heart that feels a little lighter than it did the night before.

The events of last night are already fading into a dream-like sort of quality in his mind, and he can sense just a hint of apprehension starting to build in his muscles at the idea of having to face Jack after all the emotional upheavals of a few hours ago, but it is still only that - a tiny twitch of uncertainty that is not enough to bring on panic or stir him from the comfort of his bed at the moment.

Jack is still asleep next to him, with the sheet bunched up around his face and his feet sticking out near the bottom of the bed, breaths heavy and steady. It is such a rare thing to see Jack completely unguarded like this that Ianto can’t help but give in to the urge to just lay and watch him for a few quiet minutes. When he realises he’s bordering on creepy, he makes himself turn over and think about beginning the motions of starting the day.

He is determined to not let things get weird, and that includes not staring at the boy passed out in his bed, no matter how much of a fascinating picture it makes.

Ianto starts to lift the covers to try and slip out, but then Jack snuffled in his sleep, shifting and throwing an arm out over Ianto and trapping him against the mattress under its warm weight. Letting Jack cuddle him will definitely not help with the whole ‘not making it weird’ thing, but Ianto isn’t quite sure how he’s supposed to move now - especially if he doesn’t want to wake Jack, which he really doesn’t. Not when they’re trapped in this position at least, and preferably not before he’s had a chance to at least brush his hair and teeth.

He’s still running through his options a few minutes later when Jack wakes up anyway.

Ianto can tell the moment it happens, because Jack’s sleep-lax body goes tense all at once and tight, the arm around Ianto’s waist near rigid though still heavy across his stomach. Jack’s head is still smushed into the pillow, eyes closed in a way too clearly forced to be natural, and Ianto can practically hear him thinking.

“Um,” he hedges after a moment of awkward silence. “Good morning?”

Jack deflates all at once, letting out what sounds like a relieved sigh as he pulls his arm back toward himself and lets his eyes open. Ianto is a little startled to find that they are nearly ice-blue in the morning sun and catches himself wondering if that is what Jack’s eyes always look like in the morning before he can stop.

“Oh thank god,” Jack groans, scrubbing a hand over his face and blinking owlishly as he practically throws his body into a sitting position. “For a minute there, I had no idea who I was going to find next to me. Believe it or not, you are not the worst of my options.”

“Lovely,” Ianto says, feeling sarcasm settle over him easily, replacing the sleepy warmth of a few minutes ago. It is not entirely unpleasant, and fits him like well-worn and well-loved clothing. “You know, when your first reaction upon waking is ‘where am I and who am I with?’ it might be time to rethink your life choices.”

“To be fair, usually my first thought is actually ‘where are my clothes?’ but I’m pretty sure ‘fuck you’ still stands.”

Ianto can’t help the laugh that escapes him and doesn’t even try to hold it back when Jack turns to look at him with a matching grin. Ianto knows, in this moment, that they are okay. Last night has not altered them, and it is now now, as he is relieved of the fear, that he realises how big a fear it was.

He’d been stripped of his defenses last night, all his recent wounds laid bare, and - perhaps even more terrifying - then soothed as well. It is a strange phenomenon how it can sometimes feel more vulnerable allowing someone to make you feel better than it does just exposing the hurt in the first place. He’s not sure if after last night he could have survived being treated like spun glass by Jack of all people.

Ianto is also infinitely relieved that he feels more inclined to smirk at Jack than to kiss him. It sounds silly, but there is still a tiny bit of him that won’t allow him to deny that moment of tension between them, and he was perhaps more worried than he will ever admit that he would wake up to find himself irrevocably infatuated. Thank God that is not the case.

He’s about to proved that point by laying out a tirade against Jack’s usual choice of bedfellows (or backseat fellows as was the case last night apparently) when he catches sight of the clock on his bedside table and lets out a tiny, panicked yelp instead.

It’s already after eleven, which means Rhiannon is probably up, and Gray is downstairs. So much for Ianto’s plan to kick the brothers out in the morning before his own sister could wake up and start asking awkward questions. Now he only hopes Rhiannon hasn’t been up long enough to really talk with Gray - or better yet maybe she won’t have even gotten out of bed yet. Sometimes Rhiannon will stay in bed until noon watching TV, so it isn’t out of the realm of possibility.

No matter what, Ianto has to get up right this minute though, to either avert or mitigate any possible damage. Which means Jack needs to get up right this minute too, because there is no way Ianto’s leaving him all alone in the room - not after Jack proved himself to be a snoop the night before.

“Get up, get up, get up,” he chants, throwing back the duvet and nearly tripping out of bed, no longer thinking at all about brushing his hair or teeth or anything except ‘oh shit.’

“Do you have a caffeine drip I don’t know about plugged directly into a vein or what? Breathe, Ianto, jeez.”

“No, you have to get up,” Ianto insists, moving to Jack’s side of the bed to tug at him and get him moving. Jack is making it as difficult as possible of course, refusing to budge and smiling smugly at Ianto’s panic.

“I know having me in your bed can be a lot to handle, but I have to say this is a reaction I’ve never gotten before,” Jack ponders. “I’m not sure whether your enthusiastic panic is flattering or insulting though.”

“Jack, move,” Ianto insists, but Jack continues to ignore him.

“You know, tiger, I might be more inclined to listen if you could cut back on the harpy quality. I’m kinda operating on hangover status here, and the high pitched noises aren’t doing me any favours.”

“Yeah, well, Rhiannon probably isn’t doing us any favours right now either,” Ianto snaps. “You know, what with her being downstairs talking to your brother right this instant about god knows what.”

That seems to get Jack’s attention finally, as the other boy pushes Ianto’s hand off from where it is tugging uselessly at his sleeve so that he can climb out of bed as well.

“Why didn’t you fucking say something?” he snaps back, glaring at Ianto like Ianto’s the one who’s been dawdling all this time. “She could’ve blown our cover a hundred times over by now.”

“Oh yes, clearly I’m the one at fault here,” Ianto mocks, pushing Jack ahead of him toward the door.

“It’s your sister who’s going to ruin everything.”

“It’s you and your brother who showed up on my doorstep in the middle of the night with no warning, so forgive me if I’m not taking the blame for this,” Ianto snipes, giving an unnecessary extra shove to Jack’s shoulder to get him to turn down the stairs.

“Yeah, well, if you weren’t so fucking fascinating to my brother, we wouldn’t have had to be here in the first place.”

“How is that my fault?” Ianto asks disbelievingly.

“It just is.”

Jack is glaring at him sullenly, and for a full ten seconds Ianto is oh-so-tempted to just stay here in the hallways and leave Rhiannon to it, let her blow this whole thing out of the water if it’ll mean Ianto doesn’t have to see that glare for the rest of the summer. But then he thinks of London and the promise of a future he’s only ever dreamed about, and he sighs.

“Look, we can stand here and argue, or we can go try and keep this whole ship from sinking,” he says plainly. “So what’s it going to be?”

Ianto almost thinks Jack might be having the same thoughts about ending the whole thing, because he pauses for a half second too long. In the end, though, he just shifts the glare to a disinterested sneer instead, as if he’s doing Ianto a favour by trying to keep this lie going.

“Fine, but only because my head hurts too much to keep arguing until I get some painkillers and coffee.”

Ianto rolls his eyes in lieu of responding, and tugs at Jack’s shirt to get them both moving again. As much as he sadistically wants to continue to argue as shrill as possible, just to get under Jack’s skin, they really do need to do damage control or everything is going to fall apart before they have a chance to screw it up themselves.

“C’mon then, let’s go see what’s happening. If Rhiannon isn’t out of her room yet, I might even give you that coffee before I kick you out.”

All of Ianto’s hopes that perhaps Rhiannon is still asleep are dashed halfway down the hall, when he can begin to clearly hear the sound of morning television.

He supposes Gray might be a Jeremy Kyle kind of guy, but it seems far more likely that Rhiannon is up and going about what is part of her typical off-work morning routine. Namely, stumbling into the kitchen to pour herself cereal and then hauling that out to the couch where she alternates between staring at the television enraptured by other people’s bad choices in life and distractedly eating her food.

“Shit,” he mutters, and Jack gives him a wary look. They both step more quickly, suddenly propelled by fear of what they’re about to stumble into.

What they actually find is both more and less strange than Ianto expected.

Rhiannon, Gray and, surprisingly, Johnny are sitting next to each other on the couch, sharing a blanket and all eating cereal as they stare raptly at the television. Johnny must have turned up this morning.

“Good morning,” Ianto says slowly as he steps fully into the living room, leaving Jack lingering a little behind. “Um, everything okay down here?”

“Sure,” Rhiannon says, distractedly looking around to Ianto. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“No reason,” Ianto says quickly. “Just, ah, thought you might have been surprised by the strange man on our couch this morning.”

“Who, Gray?” Rhiannon questions. “Nah. I mean, at first I was a little wary, because there aren’t usually random blokes sleeping on our couch. But then he told me he belonged to you, so I figured he was fine.”

Ianto arches an eyebrow at the explanation, which shoots up even further when Gray turns to grin at him, clearly pleased with himself at having declared himself Ianto’s.

“Really?” Ianto says, voice low and a little dangerous. “He said that, huh?”

“Yep,” Rhiannon confirms, focusing back on the television. “Why, is he not yours?”

“Not exactly,” Ianto says, darting a glance back at Jack who is, thankfully, looking amused rather than murderous. “Though, I suppose, it’s as good an explanation as any.”

“Aw, c’mon, handsome,” Gray croons, smirking that Harkness smirk (seriously, they must have a patent or something). “Don’t I belong to you just a little bit? My heart certainly does.”

“You are so full of shit,” Ianto says, laughing at Gray’s shocked expression. “And you’re also kind of an idiot, so it’s no wonder you and Johnny seem to be getting along so well.”

Johnny looks up at and grins at the mention of his name, though, it falls to a pout when he works out what Ianto’s actually said. “Hey,” he complains. “Not nice.”

Ianto smiles at him fondly, before turning to pull Jack more fully into the room. Apparently they don’t have too much damage control to do, but Rhiannon hasn’t seen Jack yet which means Ianto is going to have to play the next few minutes just right to keep Gray from suspecting anything is amiss. It’s one thing for him to know that Ianto hasn’t told his dad about a boyfriend yet, it is entirely another to hear Ianto’s sister start yelling about how much Ianto dislikes said boyfriend.

Mostly, Ianto decides, it seems he’s going to have to make his fake relationship a bit more official, which is annoying but not entirely unexpected. It would have been naive to think he could make it through the whole summer without any of his family finding out. It’s going to be hard to explain his sudden status as a boyfriend one again, but it’ll also probably give the whole ruse a better chance of succeeding for the next two months. After all, at this point all it would take is one unexpected phone call from one of Jack’s parents to his parents to start unravelling it all. Maybe Rhiannon will be the easiest place to start; at least Ianto won’t have to worry about Rhiannon freaking out about him dating a guy like his dad will.

Or maybe Rhiannon won’t be so easy after all.

Rhiannon glances up when Ianto pulls Jack forward, and her eyes widen briefly before narrowing. She sets her bowl down on the coffee table with a hard think, coloured milk sloshing dangerously close to the lip, though not quite spilling over, and pushes off the couch to come and stand before them both before Ianto can even think about explaining.

“What the hell is he doing here?” Rhiannon demands, glaring at Jack and trying to come across as threatening despite being shorter than them both.

“Rhi, calm down,” Ianto chides glaring at her and Jack too, who is bristling under Rhiannon’s hard stare and looks about two seconds away from saying something scathing.

“He shouldn’t be here!” Rhiannon insists, and then looks startled when Gray starts laughing behind them.

“Damn, I didn’t peg you as the overprotective sibling type,” Gray says, looking at Rhiannon appraisingly. “It’s cute that you want to protect your little brother from illicit sleepovers, but believe me if Jack’s involved, the damage is already done. Probably several times over.”

“Gray, shut up, please,” Ianto says as pleasantly as he can. “And Rhi, will you just come with me into the kitchen for a minute, and I’ll explain.”

Rhiannon looks like she wants to argue, but another sharp look from Ianto and she keeps her mouth shut though she’s still scowling.

“I’ll be back in a minute,” Ianto says to Jack. “Try not to kill your sibling and I’ll try not to kill mine.”

Jack pulls his gaze from where he’s been sneering at Rhiannon to grin at Ianto instead. “I’ll try, but no promises.”

“Good enough,” Ianto sighs, and lets go of Jack’s arm to grab onto Rhiannon instead.

He steers them quickly toward the kitchen, stopping himself from laughing too loudly when he sees Jack smack Gray in the back of the head as he moves around the couch to sit down. Jack hears the aborted snort though and grins even wider when he catches Ianto’s eyes. Ianto can’t help smiling back before pushing Rhiannon completely out of the room and schooling his features back into a more serious expression.

“Alright, what is that bloke doing here?” Rhiannon asks again the moment they’re in the kitchen and out of sight of the other boys. Her voice is urgent but thankfully quieter than before. “I thought you hated him!”

“I do,” Ianto says, though he knows it’s not really true. And, he realises a split second later, he can’t even say it to Rhiannon if he’s going to convince his sister that he’s actually dating Jack. “I mean, I did,” he corrects.

“I know you and Lisa have been preaching about forgiveness for the last few months, but c’mon! Since when are you inviting him to our house?” Rhiannon looks so incredibly confused and upset, yet she still thinks to wince at Ianto sympathetically when she says Lisa’s name aloud. It’s one of the reasons Ianto really does love his sister.

“I’m inviting him to the house,” Ianto begins, taking a deep breath to steel himself. “Since he’s kind of my boyfriend now.”

The kitchen is dead quiet, nothing but an intermittent drip from the tap and the hum of the refrigerator to be heard. Ianto is staring hard at the countertop, so afraid of what he might see in Rhiannon’s eyes. He’s prepared for shock, maybe even for anger, but he’s scared what he’s actually going to see is disappointment.

Ianto knows that even though everyone has been sympathetic to him about his situation, they all also assume he’s just waiting for Lisa to come back. Which he is, he just can’t say it, and he’s afraid that once they find out about Jack - without knowing the full story - they are going to think the worst of him. Hell, he’d probably think the worst of him in this situation. It certainly doesn’t look good to start dating the guy that has tried to get between relationships in his friendship group just weeks after the girl you claim to love skips town for the summer. Rhiannon is also in possession of the knowledge of how Jack and Ianto fell out when they were younger, to also judge him on his choices.

When the silence goes on a beat too long, Ianto finally forces himself to look up. What is actually in Rhiannon’s eyes makes him feel like crying.

All he can see reflected at him is compassion.

“Ianto,” Rhiannon says. “Okay.”

That’s all she seems able to manage but it’s enough. It is more than Ianto had hoped for at least.

“It isn’t a big deal,” Ianto tries to explain anyway, because at the end of the summer he’s going to have to unravel the lies, and he doesn’t want to have to work harder at that than necessary. Briefly, he even considers just telling Rhiannon the truth, but as wonderful as she can be there is no way she’d be able to keep a secret this big for that long and Ianto can’t risk it. Rhiannon can’t even manage to not tattle on herself most days, about things like eating biscuits before dinner.

“It’s fine, you don’t have to explain,” Rhiannon cuts him off. “If you talked through your past together and sorted it, and are happy… I’m okay with it.”

Ianto tries not to wince at that. Ianto and Jack’s history is messy. Rhiannon is right, that knowing their history, they both would have had to talk about what happened and explained both their points of view to be able to move past it and date each other, but… He can’t admit to not having talked through it all.

“Wait,” Rhiannon adds before Ianto can manage to talk himself into or out of saying more. “You do actually have to explain a little bit, because I thought you were dating Gray.”

Rhiannon looks perplexed again, and the expression only deepens when Ianto laughs.

“No, I am definitely not dating Gray.”

“But he said…”

“Whatever he told you, he only said it because he’s trying to push his brother’s buttons, believe me.”

Rhiannon still looks confused. “Why would his brother care if he was dating you?”

“Um, because I’m dating his brother?” Ianto reponds, suddenly feeling a lot more confused himself.

“He’s JACK’s brother?” Rhiannon nearly shouts. “No way, he was way too nice of a guy to be brothers with that bloke.”

Ianto shrugs.

“So you’re dating brothers then?”

“No, Rhi.”

“But they both slept here last night.”

“Yes, yes they did.”

“Oh god,” Rhiannon moans, sinking down into a kitchen chair and looking at Ianto with a mixture of horror and pride, before whispering. “It’s a sex thing, isn’t it?”

It’s Ianto’s turn to nearly shout. “No! Oh my god, Rhi, why would you say that?”

“Because you had them both here all night when Mum and Dad were gone!”

“And that automatically screams orgy to you?!”

“I don’t know! Johnny is always telling me that gay men get way more sex than the rest of us. How was I supposed to know it’s not some kind of thing?”

“Maybe by using logic?” Ianto accuses. “And not listening to your straight boyfriend about the intricacies of queer relationships. Queer people are not more likely to have orgies.”

Rhiannon is gaping at him, clearly searching for words or something but she never gets the chance before Gray is strutting into the room and cutting in.

“Orgies, huh? Yeah, I wouldn’t recommend it.”

When Rhiannon and Ianto both turn to stare at him, his grin tilts up a little more.

“I know, I know, it sounds like fun. But the truth of the matter is, the more dicks involved, the less likely yours is going to end up being the one getting touched. Men can be really selfish creatures when it comes to group sex, which was a rather disappointing discovery to make. Who knew porn had been lying to me all those years?”

“My brother, ladies and gentlemen,” Jack adds, rolling his eyes as he, too, walks into the kitchen. He makes a beeline for the coffee-maker, and Ianto starts pulling out the beans and grinder on autopilot.

They work in a quiet tandem once more, moving around each other to fill the coffee pot and pull out filters. Gray watches them with a little considering smile, which Ianto sees morph into a smirk whenever the boy glances over at Rhiannon - who is still looking like she’s trying to puzzle things out.

“So wait, queer people don’t have more sex than straight people do?” Rhiannon asks a minute later, as Johnny walks into the kitchen.

Ianto can’t help but drop his head against the cupboard at that, a groan of frustration escaping him. He is startled from his agitation by a gentle, commiserating touch on his back. The hand disappears just as quickly, and when he looks up he finds Jack glaring at his own palm as if it has betrayed him.

“No, Rhi, that’s just a myth,” Ianto confirms after a moment, pulling his eyes away from Jack.

“Well, speak for yourself,” Gray says smugly. “Sex is something I get plenty of. Right Ianto?”

Rhiannon looks up sharply, and Ianto is seriously going to kill him.

“Cut it out, Gray,” Jack says lazily before Ianto can defend himself. “Can’t you see you’re confusing the cishets in the room?”

“Hey!” Johnny says indignantly.

“Coffee!” Ianto says loudly. “I think the coffee’s ready, who wants coffee?”

Gray is laughing again, and Jack is smirking at him like he just won some competition that Ianto didn’t even realise they were in, but the distraction is enough to thankfully get them off the subject of any more sex talk.

When he’s done smirking (though Ianto is pretty sure it’ll be back soon, Jack seems incapable of going more than five minutes without the sneer some days). he turns to start rooting around in the cupboards for mugs. Ianto tilts his head subtly in the right direction; after all Jack should probably have some idea about where things are in his house. He knows they’ve established the ‘my parents don’t know we’re dating’ thing, but obviously the Harkness clan still thinks their youngest spends a fair amount of time at the Jones home - even if just as ‘friends.’

Jack gives him a tiny genuine smile for his trouble and opens the right cupboard to pull out five mugs. Ianto immediately takes one of them and puts it back, grabbing a tall glass instead which he puts in front of Johnny. Jack looks inquisitive but doesn’t say anything, just pouring coffee into the four remaining mugs.

“Here,” Ianto says, plunking down the milk, a teaspoon and a tub of Nesquik powder in front of Johnny, who is finally smiling again.

“Chocolate milk?” Gray asks with a raised eyebrow. “Really?”

“It’s delicious,” Johnny mumbles, measuring out various spoons of powder into his glass of milk.

“Huh,” Gray says but doesn’t comment further. Jack hands him a mug of his own, he takes his coffee black like Rhiannon, Ianto notices, before handing off mugs to Rhiannon and Ianto as well.

Ianto is about to hand it back and say ‘splash of cream, half a spoon of sugar’ because Jack didn’t even ask and Ianto is very particular about his coffee, but of course he can’t do that. If they’re boyfriends, they should already know those things. He resigns himself to choking down a bad cup of coffee and takes a tentative sip while Jack watches him, his own mug of coffee cupped in two hands and held up to his face as if he’s waiting for Ianto’s reaction before drinking his own.

Surprise colours Ianto’s features when that first sip tastes exactly right, and he can’t help the little moan of pleasure that escapes him as the warm, liquid perfection hits his tongue. There’s nothing like that first sip of good coffee in the morning, especially considering it was unexpected.

Jack is smiling at him again, the tilt of his lips halfway between amused and fond, and finally takes a drink from his own mug. Ianto can’t tear his eyes away as Jack’s flutter shut as the caffeine hits him and Jack lets out a pleased little hum of his own. When his eyes open, they catch Ianto staring at him, and the smile widens.

Embarrassed at being caught out, Ianto quickly averts his gaze and takes another hasty sip of coffee, which is once again, perfect. Unbidden, the memory of that day weeks ago in the coffee shop, and one perfect drink being slid across the table to him despite the fact that he hadn’t specified his coffee order, comes back to him and when he chances another glance Jack’s way, his gaze is appraising.

Apparently Jack can sense the shift, because his smile turns down just a little and if Ianto didn’t know better he’d swear the other boy was blushing just a bit. He doesn’t get a chance to do anything about it though, because at that moment, they all startle at the sound of the front door slamming.

“Ianto, you awake?”

Ifan Jones’ voice echoes through the house along with the sound of shuffling and movement.

“Ifan, don’t shout!” Glenda’s voice admonishes. “What if the kids are still sleeping?”

“It’s after noon, Glenda, and besides I promise you Ianto would want to be woken up for this.”

They can hear Glenda let out a little fond, exasperated sigh as the couple moves further into the house - heading toward the five of them in the kitchen.

“Ianto! You’ve got to get down here, son; there’s an honest to god brand new Jag parked outside, and it’s even that blue you love so much! Get your butt down here- oh.”

His parents walk into the kitchen then, and his dad is still calling back over his shoulder as if he’s still calling to Ianto in his room. When they see the tableau of the five frozen kids, they all stare at each other for a long few seconds, and Ianto wonders how he ever panicked about Rhiannon this morning, because obviously, that was just tempting fate to make it worse. So, so much worse.

“Uh, that’d be mine,” Gray says after a minute, putting an easy smile back on his face and standing to offer a hand to Ifan. Ianto notices the smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “The car, I mean. You’re welcome to take a look at it if you’d like.”

Ifan looks momentarily like a kid in a sweet shop, reaching out to shake Gray’s hand automatically, before he’s able to school his features into a more stern look once more.

“And who’re you then?” he asks gruffly, and Ianto can tell he’s giving Gray’s hand an extra squeeze. To Gray’s credit, he doesn’t flinch at all, his smile firmly in place, and Ianto wonders how many intimidating fathers the guy has dealt with over the years.

“Oh, that’s Gray,” Johnny supplies helpfully, looking up at them all while wearing a milk mustache. “He belongs to Ianto.”

“Oh really?” Ifan says, shooting an even sterner look at Ianto.

“No, dad, he’s just a… well, a friend.”

“He’s Jack’s brother,” Rhiannon adds. “Apparently he’s Jack’s boyfriend now.” She jerks a helpful thumb in Jack’s direction, and Jack looks much less composed under the glare that Ifan shoots him. In fact, he looks like he might be trying to disappear into the countertop behind him. He gets a hold of himself after a second though and puts a shakier version of Gray’s easy smile on his face.. 

Ianto wants to kill Rhiannon for letting that slip, but he knows that she thinks they’ve resolved those issues now, and she didn’t mean to put him in such a shitty position. Ianto is glad Jack doesn’t do something stupid like hold out a hand of his own to shake, because of course Gray assumes that the only new piece of information in all this is the title of ‘boyfriend’ and not the boy himself being back in their lives.

“Hi,” Jack says after a minute and then looks at Ianto pleadingly. Ianto wishes he could just run and hide in his room until all of this sorts itself out, but he has to hold up his end of the fake dating deal, London, he tells himself, think of London.

“Yeah, um, we were going to tell you,” Ianto says hurriedly. “I was just waiting for the right time, which apparently is now.”

“And by ‘now,’ you mean in the morning I walk in to find my son sitting in his pajamas with strange men in my kitchen?” Ifan asks.

“Um.” Ianto bites his lip, looks at his dad with every bit of pleading he can. “They kind of spent the night.”

Ifan’s face goes red then pale as blood rushes in and out. Finally, he just lets out one big sigh and sinks into the kitchen chair across from Gray.

“Oh god,” he mumbles, not really looking at any of them. “This is a sex thing, isn’t it?”

\-----

After some more indignant squeaks and hasty denials, Ianto finally convinces his dad to hold off on the interrogation until the Harkness brothers are on their way back home. Ifan grumbles about it, but Glenda whispers something in his ear that has him agreeing. He insists on sitting right where he is in the kitchen though, arms folded sternly across his chest, as Ianto walks the boys to the door and says his goodbyes. Glenda ushers Rhiannon and Johnny (and his chocolate milk) back upstairs, so that Ianto is left alone at the front door with Jack and Gray.

Jack has swapped out the trackies for his jeans, but he’s got his shirt from last night thrown over his shoulder - wearing Ianto’s Supernatural t-shirt still instead. He’d made the good argument that the old shirt still smelled an awful lot like smoke and spilled liquor, and wearing it while sitting next to Gray for the drive home might not be the best idea.

Later, Ianto will wonder just what Jack’s plan had been if the boys had never come to his house, as obviously he’d then be wearing the bar-scented shirt, but he doesn’t think to ask in the moment mostly because the sight of Jack in his clothing is, honestly, still a bit distracting, as loathe as he is to admit it. He also doesn’t like the weird little twist he gets in his gut when he thinks that maybe Jack would have just borrowed a shirt from last night’s random in the end anyway.

“Thanks again for letting me crash here,” Gray says sincerely, interrupting Ianto’s thoughts. “Sorry that the whole sordid affair came to light this way.”

He’s smirking at Jack who looks torn between being pleased at being considered sordid, and angry at his brother for what was probably meant as an insult.

“It’s fine,” Ianto says, shoving the older boy none-too-subtly down the step of the porch and towards the car. “Just get out of here now before he changes his mind. I’ll be able to smooth it over.”

Gray grins at him but starts strolling to his car anyway. “If it’ll help, I can come back with the Jag next week and let him take it for a spin.”

“I’ll let you know,” Ianto mutters, because it might be an ace in his pocket after all.

Gray gives one more wave before jogging the rest of the way to the car. Instead of climbing in though, he leans nonchalantly against the driver’s side door and stares back at them.

“He’s waiting for me to kiss you,” Jack mutters darkly. “He’s such a fucking voyeur sometimes.”

“Oh,” Ianto says, because he’s not really sure what else there is to say.

He feels fidgety all of a sudden, though, unsure of where to look or what to do with his hands. They’ve been fine all morning, but what if this is the thing that makes last night weird? Logically he knows it was just a matter of time before he had to kiss Jack again - even briefly - because it was a part of the whole charade, but he just hadn’t expected it to be so soon.

“Are you, um… are you going to kiss me?” he asks, because Jack is still glaring at his brother and hasn’t moved from where he’s standing in front of Ianto (and he’s close too, how did Ianto not realise how close they had been standing until now?)

“Don’t really have a choice, do I? Jack says, but when he finally turns to look at Ianto, Ianto can see he looks a little unsure himself.

Ianto is positive things are getting awkward fast, but then the hesitation in Jack’s eyes is wiped away by a cocky gleam.

“Let’s try to keep it PG, though, okay, Jones? I don’t really fancy having you trying to eat my face in front of my brother.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t want to have to explain to my parents my sudden predilection for whiskey as a disinfectant either, so how about you just keep your tongue in your mouth this time, Harkness?”

Ianto grins and Jack smiles back, and then he’s leaning in and Ianto can’t stop his eyes from slipping closed. It is just a brief press, less intense than their last but more than that initial brush in the Harkness hallway nearly two weeks ago, but Ianto can’t help but feel it down to his toes anyway.

Jack’s lips are coffee-warm against his own, and Ianto’s top lip slots perfectly between them like it was made to fit there. He feels one of Jack’s arms come up around his waist to reel him in closer and presses his body forward obligingly. Jack’s mouth is barely moving over his, just the tiniest little fluttering pecks and retreats, and Ianto has to stop himself from pushing in for more. God, he’s missed kissing, since Lisa’s been gone.

Jack’s other hand comes up to twine fingers in the back of his hair, holding Ianto in place so that he can press a few more short, hard kisses against his lips, and then he’s pulling back and away. They are still pressed against one another, though, neither one stepping back as they stare at each other across the small distance now between their faces.

Ianto bites his cheek to keep himself from darting out a tongue to lick along his own lips, chasing some unknown taste he’s sure is there, and Jack can’t seem to tear his eyes away from Ianto’s mouth. All of Ianto’s fears about this being weird are eclipsed by this new feeling of want, which is just as perplexing and confusing, and he’s about to say or do something monumentally stupid, like move in for one more kiss, when Gray’s wolf-whistle cuts through the moment.

“Damn boys, for a kiss that should have been Disney appropriate, you certainly made it look hot!”

Jack lets go of Ianto then completely, stepping back and off the porch and shoving his hands deep into his pockets. Ianto crosses his own arms in front of him, feeling both defensive and a little bit lost. True to form, Jack saves him from feeling anything for long though, by ruining a confusing moment with a wink and a leer.

“See you, Ianto,” he calls, laughing when Ianto sticks out his tongue in retaliation. He jogs towards the car then, flipping Gray the bird at something his brother says, and then he’s folding himself in the front seat and waving at Ianto one more time before shutting the door.

Ianto rolls his eyes but waves back, glad that all it takes is one smug grin from Jack to have him forgetting all about any tension between them. It’s just that it’s been so long since he was properly kissed (the resort doesn’t count, he tells himself, that had been all raw jealous action and nothing more) so of course he’d responded. He tells himself he would have felt those same fluttery feelings in his gut if it had been Tosh, or even Gwen, that had kissed him. It’s just that he’s missing Lisa and his body got confused.

Whatever the truth of it might be, Ianto’s mind seems to accept the explanation for the moment, and he shakes off any lingering doubts as he walks back into the house to meet his executioner.

\-----

In the end, the conversation with his parents isn’t as awful or as long as he expected it to be. Clearly his mum must have had a word with his dad while he was saying goodbye to the Harkness brothers. Mostly Glenda looks at him like she’s trying to determine if the whole thing is some form of revenge against Lisa for leaving, though Ianto can’t tell if his mum thinks that would be a good thing or not. Ifan mostly looks at him like Ianto is a puzzle to solve. He knows his parents have seen his hurt over the break-up, even if they have no idea how to talk to Ianto about it.

“Look son,” Ifan interrupts finally, putting an end to Ianto’s attempt at an explanation. “I’m not gonna pretend to understand this whole thing… Are you gay now? I still don’t understand this bisexual thing.” He mutters to himself, frowning. “I know I tried to put a stop to all this nonsense when you and Harkness were young, but-” Ifan takes a deep breath, clenching his teeth.

Ianto’s mind casts back to _ that _ night. The night that broke him and Jack irreparably. He shakes off the thought.

Glenda interrupts her husband. “So, all we really want to know is are you happy?”

That gives Ianto pause, because he’s trying his best not to lie to anyone more than necessary about this whole thing, and that seems like an important question. His immediate thought is ‘no, of course I’m not happy! The girl I love left me, and I’m having to pretend to date a guy I can’t stand for an entire summer, or else give up on all my dreams and plans!’ Not that he can say any of that to his parents, of course.

After a moment of consideration, though, he finds that it isn’t quite the truth anyway. He thinks about Jack’s righteous indignation and anger on his behalf last night, he thinks about laughing and joking at the Harkness dinner table, he thinks about cheering for River at the resort and flirting harmlessly with Gray, and he realises that while he may not be really happy yet, he’s a hell of a lot less sad.

“Yeah,” he answers. “He’s making me happier.”

It is the most unexpected truth of all in these last three weeks.

“Good,” Glenda says. “That’s all we really care about, son, you know that.” Ifan looks like he wants to interject but he keeps quiet.

“Sure,” Ianto says and tries to smile even though he is still feeling stunned by his own admission.

“I’m not gonna say we’re thrilled about him spending the night either,” Glenda continues. “But you’re almost grown up and gone anyway, so we won’t stop you if it’s what you want to do. I just ask that you try to keep me from seeing or hearing anything that’d mortify us all okay?”

“Mum!” Ianto shouts, face flamingly red. “It’s not- I wouldn’t… god, can we not talk about stuff like that please?”

Ifan looks a little green around the gills.

“Sure thing, son,” Glenda chuckles, smiling at Ianto genuinely.

Glenda asks lots of questions about the Harkness family and their estate. Ianto regales his parents with stories about what happened the few times he’s seen them since this all began. His dad perks up once more at the stories about the Harkness garage and Franklin’s Aston Martin. It is so easy that by the time he’s heading upstairs to finally take a shower, he’s smiling more than he has in days.

Just as he’s grabbing his towel, his phone buzzes, and three little words bring nerves crashing back in. It’s a text from Jack, who’s probably not long got home.

**Jack** (1:06pm):  _ We’ve got trouble. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks as always to my cheerleader temporalsilence and my beta princessoftheworlds !
> 
> i hope you all enjoyed it! and finally meeting mr and mrs jones haha.
> 
> also if it wasn't implied heavily enough... the harknesses all have scottish accents lol.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ianto heads to Jack's to find out what sort of trouble they're in.

Jack is waiting for him outside the house by his own car when he pulls up.

It’s Saturday, the last Saturday in June, and Ianto’s been on pins and needles for days. After that cryptic text, Jack hadn’t replied to any of Ianto’s frantic queries or calls for nearly three hours, and when he finally did pick up later in the evening, it had just been to growl, ‘I’ll call you later,’ before hanging up on Ianto again.

Ianto’s first order of business, should their fake relationship still exist after whatever is about to go down tonight, is to teach Jack some damn phone manners.

The worst part is that he’d spent all of Friday answering a barrage of texts and phone calls from Gwen, as well as hiding in his room once Tosh showed up pouting that Ianto was letting Jack cuddle him when Tosh had clearly offered first. This was the exact reason why he didn’t want to tell his Rhiannon or his friends anything. None of them could keep a secret to themselves. Thank God that most of his friends were off on holidays and various other things that stopped them from bothering him. The only other saving grace was that, according to Gwen, Lisa was enforcing the ‘total communication blackout’ thing with everyone except for family, so there was only a slim chance that any news would reach her before Ianto had a chance to explain.

However, he also couldn’t help but wonder the entire time if he was putting in all this effort to maintain a lie that had already been exposed. What if he was making excuses to Gwen or dodging Tosh for no reason at all?

But of course Jack never called him back, so Ianto spent the day fending off questions and the night scrolling through online ads to ‘make money fast’ should the deal fall through.

He’d finally gotten a reply from Jack last night at around nine, and it really wasn’t any sort of answer at all.

**Jack** (9:09 pm):  _ Can you be here at 4 tomorrow? _

**Ianto** (9:10 pm):  _ Finally! What happened? What trouble? You can’t send messages like that and then not answer your phone! _

**Jack** (9:10 pm):  _ 4, yes or no? _

**Ianto** (9:11 pm):  _ I despise you. Fine, yes I’ll be there, though I’m not sure what you expect me to say once I show up if I don’t even know what I’m walking into. _

**Jack** (9:13 pm):  _ Don’t need you to say anything. Just need your body. _

**Ianto** (9:14 pm):  _ Um… did you mean that text for someone else? _

**Ianto** (9:16 pm):  _ Or is this one of your really bad jokes? _

**Ianto** (9:17 pm):  _ Gray is that you? Give Jack his phone back. _

**Ianto** (9:18 pm):  _ Jack? _

**Ianto** (9:19 pm):  _ You are ignoring me. I can’t believe you’re ignoring me. I hate you so much. _

**Jack** (9:20 pm):  _ See you at 4. _

**Ianto** (9:21 pm):  _ FML. See you at 4. _

So it is naturally with much trepidation that Ianto climbs out of the car at just three minutes after four.

“You’re late,” Jack states the minute Ianto’s feet hit the drive. He pushes himself off the car where he’d been lounging to stalk toward Ianto looking extremely put out.

“And you’re a right prick. Since we’re sharing truths and all,” Ianto responds, crossing his arms defensively. He’s going to be so pissed if he drove all the way here just to hear the deal is off.

“Whatever, just hurry up. We need to get set up,” Jack says, rolling his eyes and pivoting to walk up to the front door instead, leaving Ianto no choice but to follow after.

“Set up for what? Are you going to tell me what kind of trouble we’re in here any time soon?”

“I don’t know,” Jack says with a shrug, not slowing his march.

“You don’t know what the trouble is or you don’t know if you’re going to tell me?”

“Maybe a little of both,” Jack says, turning just enough to shoot Ianto a smug little smile.

“Well, it can’t be that bad if you’re able to grin about it.”

Jack’s smile drops instantly, and the scowl he’s now wearing better matches Ianto’s own feelings on the situation.

“I’m not sure what’s wrong, I just know something is,” he admits. “All I know is that when we got home on Thursday Gray disappeared for twenty minutes, and then my mum came and told me she wanted to ‘have a sit down’ with the both of us today. She looked upset, but she wouldn’t tell me what it was about. She said it was important we both be there.”

Ianto can feel the blood draining from his face, and he stumbles a little on the step up to the front door. He has prepared himself for Jack to tell him the jig is up, but he is not prepared at all to have to face an angry or disappointed mother.

“But,” Ianto protests weakly, picking up his pace to match Jack’s quick steps through into the kitchen and up the steps to the breakfast room. “How could Gray have told her anything? He doesn’t know anything… does he?”

“I told you, Ianto, I don’t know,” Jack spits out angrily. “Maybe he snooped that night after we went to bed and found something incriminating, maybe your sister or her boyfriend let something slip and we didn’t realise. I. Don’t. Know. All I do know is that we are expected to have some kind of important discussion with my mum today, and it doesn’t sound good.”

“You’d think you could at least have given me some warning! I didn’t prepare for parental confrontation, you know,” Ianto grumbles.

Jack eyes him and smirks just a little more. “This is your warning; we don’t have to talk with her ‘til five when she gets back from her weekly tea thing with her friends.”

“So why are we rushing then?” Ianto can’t help but snap, because he’s been practically running after Jack up until now.

“I told you; we need to get set up.”

“Okay, that is it.” Ianto comes to a halt in the middle of the long hallways, not far from where he and Jack kissed (not that he’s thinking about that sort of thing of course). “I have put up with you ignoring me and your cryptic non-answers for long enough. You can either tell me what the hell is going on, or I’m leaving and you can deal with your mother on your own.”

Jack scowls at him, but throws up his hands in defeat. “Fine, can we at least wait until we get to my room, or is that too much to ask?”

“Fine,” Ianto repeats back.

Jack leads them towards the door at the end of the corridor. For a moment, when the door first swings to, Ianto forgets all of his questions and worries.

Jack has changed rooms since they were children. It is nothing like he expected, which seems to be nearly a running theme when it comes to Jack and his family. Again, he’s not sure exactly what he had expected, but it was probably something along the lines of dark colours, framed prints, trophies and knick-knacks that spoke of a wealthy childhood and understated, expensive taste.

This was all light.

There are huge windows along one wall, thrown open to welcome in the summer air and sunshine (Ianto can see Jack’s car just outside the window), and with the cream-coloured walls and light blue covers on the bed, the whole room seems to glow from it. The furniture is dark wood, but it shines brightly too and only seems to enhance instead of darken. There is art on the walls, lots of watercolours and abstract designs, things that feel nearly playful which is a word Ianto never thought he’d be associating with Jack Harkness. Not again. There are framed photos too, some colour and some black and white, and Ianto is just itching to look at them all.

There is a clothes basket in the corner, with half-spilled laundry hanging out over the lip, and all around the room on the dresser and desk, bedside table and floor, are stacks upon stacks of books. From what Ianto can see they span genres, fantasy mixing with aviation, biographies stacked atop fiction. Many of them have pages marked, with bookmarks or slips of paper or, in one case, what look like theatre tickets, and Ianto wonders if Jack is really reading them all at the same time.

The room feels warm and not just from the summer breeze. It is cozy and inviting, and Ianto can suddenly picture all too clearly spending lazy afternoons sprawled across the bed or window seat reading in companionable silence, interrupted from time to time to read aloud the particularly good bits to each other. There is even an abandoned china cup with a tea bag set beside it that adds to the image and makes Ianto think of those romance novels he used to steal from his grandmother’s old collection.

It feels like he’s getting a peek at a side of Jack that very rarely makes itself known, and he’s not quite sure what to say. He wishes, just a bit, that he was drunk like Jack had been when Ianto’s room was the one on display, if only because the expectations of his reaction would be dramatically lessened.

In another strange turn of events, Jack is actually still hovering by the door looking completely ill at ease and fidgety in a way that he never ever is. When Ianto turns back and forces the boy to meet his eyes, he is surprised to see that Jack looks vulnerable, nerves and tension thrumming through him nearly audibly as he waits for Ianto to pass judgement.

Ianto knows he needs to say something, anything, to break the growing silence between them, but he is very much afraid that if he opens his mouth what is going to come out is, ‘I want to live here’ which would not be appropriate at all - even if it is the truth.

“It’s not what I expected,” he settles for in the end, parroting back Jack’s own words from the other night.

It seems enough to shake Jack from his nervous energy, because in the next moment, he is pushing off the doorframe and striding into the room more fully, all ego and confidence once more. Somehow, the room still makes the image softer though, or perhaps Ianto is simply growing fonder of the bravado than he’d like to admit.

“Let me guess, you pictured something closer to a brothel, right?” Jack asks teasingly.

“More like one part lounge, one part evil lair,” Ianto corrects, smiling back.

“Sorry to disappoint,” Jack says with a shrug, sprawling out over the window seat so that he is framed in the afternoon sunlight.

“If there’s one thing you’ve never been, it’s disappointing,” Ianto murmurs, eyes drifting over the boy who he can’t help but see differently here.

Jack’s smile loses a bit of its edge, looking more genuine than before, and Ianto thinks they may be having some sort of moment here, but the sound of a car driving over the gravel of the driveway drifts in through the window in the next instant and shatters the calm.

“Shit, she’s back early,” Jack groans, jumping up quickly and advancing on Ianto in a way that is, frankly, alarming. “I thought we’d have at least another fifteen minutes.”

“For what? Who’s back? You haven’t told me anything yet!” Ianto nearly shouts, caught up in the shift in mood from relaxed to panicked.

“My mum,” Jack says, kicking off his shoes quickly and ripping the decorative blanket down off the end of the bed so that it is a crumpled mess on the floor.

“I thought we weren’t talking to her until five.”

“We’re not, but I had a plan,” Jack shoots back distractedly, ducking down to stare in the mirror on top of his dresser as he begins pulling and squeezing at his hair until it is standing on end and looking extremely manhandled.

“Fill me in here!” Ianto snaps, grabbing Jack’s sleeve and forcing the other boy to stop his wild motions to look at him. “What is going on?”

“I figured if my mum was doubting the truth of our relationship, we could give her one more piece of proof that we’re actually dating before we have to sit down for the ominous ‘talk.’ That way maybe if she wasn’t quite sure, she’d be swayed to believe us.”

“What proof are we talking about here?” Ianto asks, though his heart is already heavy with dread as he watches Jack start to undo the buttons on his shirt.

“She always comes in to say hi when she gets back from her tea,” Jack says, shucking his shirt completely and revealing a toned, tanned chest that Ianto was so not prepared for. “So, I thought we’d stage an interruption.”

“An interruption?” Ianto asks weakly, traitorous eyes following Jack’s fingers which are moving down to the button of his jeans.

“Of the sexual escapade variety,” Jack says.

When Ianto just stares, mouth hanging open in disbelief, Jack rolls his eyes. “I want her to think she’s walking in on us having sex, Ianto.”

“Got that, yeah,” Ianto manages to say. “I’m not going to have sex with you.”

“Please, as if that would be a good plan,” Jack scoffs. “She’d take one look at my disgusted face and know we weren’t really together.”

Ianto knows he’s offended by that, but Jack has also just kicked his jeans completely off leaving him in nothing but a pair of tiny blue boxer briefs and so he can’t quite find the words to retaliate. It only gets worse when Jack stalks towards him and starts reaching for the buttons on Ianto’s shirt next.

“What are you doing?!” he yelps, batting the hands away and clutching his shirt more tightly around him.

“Look, you can take it off or I can rip it off, but we’ve got maybe three minutes here and you are definitely getting naked. So what’s it going to be?”

Ianto wants to argue, but the look in Jack’s eye says he means every word and this shirt is one of his favourites so Ianto begins to unbutton it. He knows his face is stained bright with a blush of epic proportions, but there is nothing he can do about it. At least Jack seems to have laid off the mocking.

When he’s got the shirt undone he discards it hesitantly, moving to drape it over the back of the desk chair, but Jack grabs it from him and flings it to the floor instead.

“Hey!”

“Believe me, tiger, if we were really doing this, you wouldn’t have stopped long enough to hang up your precious clothing. Jeans next.”

Ianto stands stubbornly still at that, arms crossed protectively over his bare chest. He’d like to see Jack try to rip off his jeans. He’s so distracted by the threat of being stripped against his will, he doesn’t even think about the fact that it is the first time Jack has called him ‘tiger’ without an audience or about the fact that he ought to be protesting the endearment.

Jack, it seems, is up for the challenge of ripping off even jeans, because he is reaching for Ianto’s buttons again without hesitation. He ignores Ianto’s slapping hands, deftly undoing the buttons as Ianto’s blush just gets darker. When Ianto starts actively trying to hold his jeans up as Jack pushes them down, Jack gives a frustrated huff and takes a step back.

“Ianto, come on, you’ve got to work with me here. I promise I’m not after your fucking virtue or something.”

“It’s not that,” Ianto insists, hating the way the red staining his cheeks is now moving down his neck and chest as well.

“Well, what is it then? You can keep your underwear on.”

Ianto stares at the wall behind Jack’s left ear.

“You’ve never really done this before, have you?”

“Of course I have,” Ianto says.

“I mean with someone other than Lisa or somewhere other than the privacy of your own bedroom. You’ve never gotten undressed with someone else before, other than that, have you?”

“I had to get undressed at the GP last year-”

“Ianto.”

“No, okay? No, I’ve never gotten undressed in front of anyone else before.”

Jack sighs heavily and runs a hand over his face, though Ianto can’t tell if it’s in exasperation or consideration.

“Okay, look,” Jack says finally. “We have to do something or this whole thing might be falling apart in the next hour, and this is all I’ve got. If you’re really uncomfortable though, I’m not going to force you to do it. I’m not that guy.”

He says it sincerely, and Ianto knows that even though Jack is frustrated and scared about what his mum is going to do, he actually means it. He would forfeit his summer freedom, possibly even his bank account, if Ianto didn’t make the choice to do this of his own free will. Somehow that makes Ianto’s decision easier, though certainly no less embarrassing.

“Fine,” he says, looking down and reaching hesitantly for the waistband of his jeans. “But underwear stays on.”

“Ianto,” Jack says softly, and Ianto knows he’s giving him another chance at an out.

“I said it’s fine, Jack,” he mumbles, kicking off his shoes so he can step out of his jeans. “Just, could you maybe hold off on all the commentary about how pale or thin I look until I’m dressed again?”

“Ianto,” Jack says again, in that same hushed voice, and when Ianto finally makes himself look up, he thinks he may have been misinterpreting the tone. Jack isn’t looking at him with pity, or a gentle out, he is looking at him like he’s never seen him before and maybe - just maybe - he likes what he sees.

Jack’s eyes are raking over him in a way that Ianto can practically feel, and he knows his blush is only getting worse but Jack isn’t saying anything about it. In fact, his eyes just seem to trace the edges of the blush instead, drinking up the spill of red over Ianto’s chest and shoulders, following the line up his neck, until finally he is looking at Ianto’s eyes once more.

“You don’t have to say it; I know I’m not the ideal,” Ianto mumbles, even though Jack doesn’t look like he was about to complain.

“Ianto? Shut up,” Jack says, eyes doing one more quick slide over Ianto’s body. “Really. Just shut up.”

He doesn’t elaborate further, but Ianto shuts up in any case. He’s not sure whether he’d want to hear more anyway, because good or bad, it’ll only make the situation they find themselves in more uncomfortable.

Then Jack steps towards him, and for a brief panicky moment, Ianto thinks Jack is going to kiss him or ravish him or something. Jack doesn’t do any of these things though, in fact, comes to a stop a good eight inches away with his eyes firmly fixed on Ianto’s head. He reaches for Ianto’s hair, and that helps to snap Ianto out of the fog of embarrassment and confusion, because has he not told Jack to never touch his hair or what?

“Don’t,” he says crossly, slapping at the reaching hand. “I told you not to touch the hair.”

“I’ve got to mess it up some,” Jack says patiently. “So it looks authentic.”

“Yours is messed up, isn’t that enough?”

“I don’t know how you’ve been having sex, babe, but if your hair still looks this put together after, you’ve been doing something wrong,” Jack responds drily.

Ianto huffs, but allows Jack to reach for his hair this time and holds back the grimace (mostly) when Jack runs long fingers through it, tugging it this way and that.

Just when Ianto thinks he’s about through, Jack grabs hold of a fistful of short hairs at the back of Ianto’s head and tugs, forcing Ianto’s head to bow back and to the side, exposing the line of his throat. Ianto barely manages to keep from whimpering, which is good because he’s pretty sure it wouldn’t have sounded like anything except for exactly what it was - desire.

Is it his fault he likes having his hair tugged?

“Bite your lip,” Jack murmurs lowly, still holding Ianto back and exposed.

“Wha-?” Ianto manages to ask, blinking stupidly and trying to tell his dick that now is really not a good time to take an interest.

“Bite your lip, so it looks like we’ve been kissing,” Jack repeats. “Or I can do it for you.”

Ianto wants to whimper again, but thinks of all the most awful things he can (Johnny’s table manners, his dad, Lisa leaving him…) and manages to hold back, and kill the beginnings of his erection. He bites his own lip hastily to remove the temptation of letting Jack do it, and watches in fascination as Jack starts to chew on his own.

After a moment Jack seems satisfied, as he releases his hold on Ianto’s hair and steps back.

“Top or bottom?” he asks, and Ianto is pleased to note that his voice doesn’t sound entirely steady either.

“What?” he asks again dumbly, distracted by the almost-naked boy in front of him and - damn traitorous eyes - those blue boxer briefs.

“Do you want to be on the top or bottom?” Jack repeats, gesturing toward the bed. “Or I suppose I could just bend you over the end of the bed.”

“I thought we weren’t really having sex?” Ianto asks, voice thready and nervous.

“We aren’t but we do have to make it look like we’re getting to it, alright? So do you want to be on top or bottom?”

Ianto still hesitates, eyes darting to the now-rumpled bed that had seemed like such an innocent, peaceful place to just sprawl and read only minutes ago.

“Look tiger, I’m not asking you about your sexual preferences, or to choose some weird position. All I want to know is if you want me laying on top of you or if you want to crawl on top of me. It’s not that hard.”

It being hard is actually one of Ianto’s legitimate concerns at the moment. He hates that his physiology does not seem to care who the hot naked guy is. The hot naked guy who is about to be up against him. He lets himself think for one more minute, and while being on top feels like it might give him a bit more control, it also means having to use that control to get them in the right position, and he’s not sure he can do much more than lay there at this point without actually spontaneously combusting.

“Bottom,” he says and glowers when Jack grins and winks at him.

“Always kinda figured you for one,” Jack teases, moving to climb up on the wide bed and gesturing for Ianto to do the same.

“Well, you figured wrong then,” Ianto can’t help but spit out, even though sharing his sexual thoughts with Jack was most definitely not supposed to happen. Then again, this entire situation is one huge ‘not ever supposed to happen’ so in for a penny, in for a pound.

“Really? Hmm, I do have a great arse for pounding.”

“Or maybe switching actually,” he finds himself correcting quietly, despite the fact that he wants to just let it go. He’s not sure why, but he feels like if Jack is going to be picturing his sex life anyway, he doesn’t want him picturing it wrong. He does agree with Jack’s statement, though. Jack really does have a spectacular arse.

Jack must notice something off in his tone, because he pauses in his scramble up the mattress to turn an appraising eye on Ianto.

“Hmm, I didn’t peg you as that flexible,” he says finally.

“You have no idea how flexible I can be,” Ianto says haughtily. He feels his face heat again the moment it’s out, but when Jack laughs warmly he feels a tiny bit pleased as well, and is able to finally get himself moving to climb onto the bed.

He lays back obligingly against the pillows, staring out the window at the treetops and sky beyond Jack’s car and tries not to think too much when Jack climbs over him. It becomes harder to do when one of Jack’s thighs slips between his own and they are pressed pelvis-to-pelvis and chest-to-chest in a way that is so incredibly intimate that Ianto can’t feel anything but laid bare beneath it, and not just because of the lack of clothing.

Jack’s face is just inches above him, he can feel so much naked skin pressed hotly along his own, and he can’t stop his breath from speeding up. The tiny hairs on Jack’s legs are tickling and scratching pleasantly against his own, and he can feel the heat of Jack against his thigh. The weight of him feels warm and solid. This feels more real than anything has felt for Ianto in weeks.

“For the record,” Jack murmurs, blue eyes bright and tracing Ianto’s features until they come to rest back on Ianto’s own. “Your arse isn’t half bad either.”

“Thanks, I think,” Ianto says, trying to roll his eyes so that he can brush it off instead of letting himself feel pleased.

“Definitely a compliment, tiger,” Jack says. “And since we’re pretty much naked here, I think I’m definitely in a position to make those kinds of judgements.”

“Yeah, well, you aren’t so bad yourself,” Ianto mumbles through the hot burn of flattered embarrassment.

“Oh, I know,” Jack says with a cocky eyebrow wiggle that breaks the remaining tension.

In fact, when Elizabeth walks in a minute later, it is to find the two boys tangled up together giggling into each other’s necks, Jack completely collapsed on top of Ianto, chests heaving against each other, thighs rubbing and fingers intertwined.

She smiles at the picture they make, before obligingly averting her eyes when Ianto yelps in surprise and hides his face back in Jack’s neck.

“Hey mum, you’re home early,” Jack says, his own face looking a little less smug than one might expect. “Um, can you give us a minute here?”

“I’ll give you half an hour,” Elizabeth smirks back, winking at Ianto when he peeks out around Jack’s shoulder again and making his face redden again.

When the door closes behind her, Jack doesn’t move immediately, just turns to grin down at Ianto again.

“I think that may have actually worked,” he says.

“Guess we’ll see,” Ianto replies, and tries to shrug, though it’s hard to do when pressed into a bed.

“Thanks,” Jack says quietly, still hovering just above him. “You didn’t have to do that, and I really think it might give us an edge later.”

“Yeah, um, no problem,” Ianto whispers back, very glad that he didn’t add ‘any time’ to the end.

They stare at each other for another minute, until all at once, the position they are in and the places they are touching comes flooding back into Ianto’s mind and it is too much, too much.

“Can you, um,” he mutters, breaking eye contact and shifting below Jack uncomfortably.

“Wha- oh yeah, sorry,” Jack says hastily, releasing his hold on Ianto’s hands and pulling himself back onto his knees to give Ianto the room to roll out from below him.

They shuffle off the bed then, and dress in silence, not really looking at each other. By the time they have their clothes back on, they’ve managed to put the armour on as well.

“If you ever tell anyone we did that-” Ianto starts to threaten.

“Please, tiger, as if I’d look any better in that scenario. I have to maintain some kind of standards, or I’d have every twink from here to Glasgow throwing themselves at me.”

“I wouldn’t worry, they’d have a hard time getting to you through your enormous ego,” Ianto drawls.

“Honey, my ego isn’t the only thing about me that’s enormous,” Jack taunts, smirking familiarly.

Ianto fights his blush and rolls his eyes, though not quickly enough to keep Jack from laughing at him the whole walk down the hall, as they head out in search of Elizabeth and the so-called ‘trouble.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks as always to my cheerleader temporalsilence and my beta princessoftheworlds !
> 
> this was full off quite a bit of sexual tension ;)


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ianto and Jack finally find out why they're in trouble.

“I’m sorry, this is about what?”

Jack’s indignant words hang in the air between where he and Ianto are sitting opposite Elizabeth and Franklin in one of the many rooms in the house. Ianto remembers many days spent playing here when they were younger. It’s a room that is an actual library. It still stuns him.

Ianto reaches out automatically to lay a calming hand on Jack’s thigh and only really realises what he’s done when Elizabeth gives him a tiny, pleased smile.

“Honey, we know it’s upsetting, but-”

“No, you know what’s upsetting? What’s upsetting is the fact that I spent the last three days thinking you were going to… tell me to break up with Ianto or something.”

Ianto is glad that even in his temper Jack is smart enough not to let slip what they were really worried about.

“Why on Earth would we do that?” Elizabeth asks, looking genuinely shocked.

“We love Ianto,” Franklin adds, beaming hugely at them both. “He’s the best thing to happen to this family in years.”

Jack can’t contain his eye roll, and turns with an exasperated look to Ianto as if to say ‘See? I told you, planning our wedding already.’ Ianto, for his part, is feeling a bit stunned at the declaration, because he can’t remember the last time someone told him he was ‘the best thing to happen to them.’ Maybe it was Lisa, months ago.

“So this entire time, you were really worried about how we were going to react to dance lessons,” Jack clarifies, as if needing that extra assurance.

“Not just the lessons, but the fact that the company we booked won’t let you take them as a couple,” Elizabeth adds, looking as close to embarrassed as Ianto has ever seen her. “It makes me sick that they’re being so close-minded, and we’d just boycott the whole thing, but the wedding’s in just under two months and…”

“Mum, it’s fine,” Jack says. “I wouldn’t have wanted to take lessons from some stuffy old homophobic hag anyway.”

“I know, but it would have been so nice to get to do it as a family,” Elizabeth sighs wistfully.

“Are they okay with River and Jodie, then? Seems a bit hypocritical,” Ianto can’t help but ask. Was it run by some disgusting fetishisers?

Elizabeth shakes her head with an annoyed look. “River and Jodie are getting private lessons elsewhere. We’d have used that company, but they don’t do group lessons.”

“It’s fine, Mum,” Jack adds, referring back to earlier.

“I already know how to ballroom dance anyway, Mrs Harkness,” Ianto interjects. Rhiannon used to take lessons and would always get Ianto to help practice with her. Their many years doing gymnastics together definitely helped with their coordination together. It’s also what kept Ianto so flexible.

“Elizabeth, Ianto. I’ve told you to call me Elizabeth,” she admonishes. “And the lessons weren’t for you; they were for Jack.”

“Oh really?” Ianto asks, smirking at the boy next to him on the loveseat. “You didn’t tell me you couldn’t dance, sweetheart.”

Jack glares back then turns the dark look on his parents who just grin at him in return. “I can dance just fine, I just don’t care to,” he huffs.

“Now come on, Jack,” Franklin teases. “We all know you can dance; you just can’t ballroom dance.”

“Well, I don’t see why I would need to!” Jack returns, practically spitting fire as they all chuckle at him. “It’s not like I’ve ever wanted to twirl anyone around the dance floor anway.”

“Don’t you want to have the chance to ‘twirl around the dance floor’ with your sister at her wedding?” Ianto asks, side-eyeing Jack.

Elizabeth is beaming at Ianto like he’s the second coming, and Franklin looks like he’s picking out their china pattern, but Jack is still glowering.

“Oh and I suppose you’re going to teach me then?” he asks. “You going to stand in for the girl?”

It is the closest Jack has ever come to outright insulting him in front of his family, and Ianto chooses to focus on the worry of their reactions other than his own desire to lash out in return. Just because the Harknesses still seem sold on them as a couple so far, doesn’t mean starting one of their epic fights in front of Jack’s parents is a good idea. Luckily, Ianto manages to mostly hold his tongue, and Franklin and Elizabeth are both looking at their son disapprovingly, but not as if they suspect anything more than the fact that he is capable of being a dick.

“I could, yes,” Ianto says haughtily, because he can’t completely let it go. “And there’s no shame in letting your partner be the one to lead. If you don’t know that, then you’re missing out on more than dancing. And here, I thought you were all about switching it up.”

Ianto knows that Jack is a little sensitive whenever it comes to things that others see as feminine or traditionally a woman's role. He’s a little afraid he’s overstepped or said something too close to innuendo for good taste in front of the parents, but Franklin just laughs. Even Jack’s frown softens some.

“Well said,” Elizabeth agrees, and from the look exchanged between father and son, it is clear that they are glad she’s missed the way the words might have applied to bedroom activities. “But you won’t have to, Ianto; that’s the best part!”

They all swivel their gazes back to her, Franklin looking like he’s in on the surprise while Ianto and Jack have twin looks of mingled worry and anticipation. Because when a parent says ‘that’s the best part,’ they often mean ‘that’s the most embarrassing part for you’ or sometimes even ‘that’s the part you’re going to need therapy for.’

“What is?” Jack finally says, when it’s clear she’s going to make them ask for their surprise.

“I was able to squeeze you two into a gay-friendly ballroom class at a dance studio in Newport!” she squeals excitedly. “They meet every Monday, and while not everyone in the class has a same-gender dance partner, you certainly won’t be the only gay couple there. Best of all, the instructors will know how to walk you through the adjustment in positioning and such, so that it feels natural!”

Ianto would laugh at the look of unadulterated horror on Jack’s face, but he’s pretty sure he just got roped into spending at least a month’s worth of Mondays with Jack in addition to whatever else turns up, so he’s not so sure he feels like smiling at the moment.

“No,” Jack murmurs, shaking his head frantically. “No, no, no, no, Mum, you didn’t!”

“Of course I did, don’t you want to be able to dance with your sister at her wedding like Ianto said? Or even take your old mum out for a turn around the dance floor?”

“Sure, but I don’t need lessons,” Jack insists. “Ianto can teach me, he said so!”

“Yeah,” Ianto hurries to add. “You don’t have to waste your money on lessons; I can teach him.”

Really, he’s mostly thinking he can probably get Jack dancing passably in one long day if he pushes them, which sounds infinitely better than every Monday for god knows how long.

“Nonsense,” Elizabeth insists. “I know you boys might think it’s a stuffy thing to do, but it’s only four lessons, for goodness sake. You can even make it into a date night!”

“Mum,” Jack groans. “No one our age goes to dance lessons for date night.”

Ianto thinks privately that Gwen will probably die of jealousy when she hears about this, because dance lessons are exactly the kind of ‘date night’ she wishes Rhys would take her on. He’s kind of on Jack’s side here though, so he isn’t going to say it out loud.

“Well, maybe more of you should,” Elizabeth says firmly. “After all, there’s nothing wrong with a healthy sex life, but you can’t spend all your time in the bedroom.”

Ianto’s red again in an instant and even Jack looks slightly mortified to be talking about his sex life (pretend or otherwise) with his mother.

“Mum,” he hisses again. “Jesus, you’re terrible!”

“Well if you don’t want me to talk about it, maybe you should start remembering to lock your door!” she says cheerily, and Ianto shrinks into the sofa even further. If he wasn’t so painfully aware of the fact that it was Jack he was sitting next to, he would probably try to hide his face in the other boy’s shoulder just to get away from the cheeky smiles the elder Harknesses are giving them.

“Alright, honey, you’re embarrassing them,” Franklin finally says, though he’s still grinning. “The point is, boys, we think it’d be a good experience for you, and Jack, you really could use the lessons. If you’re dead set against it, though, I suppose I could call River in here and tell her you didn’t want to take dance lessons for her wedding…”

“No, we’ll take them,” Jack says immediately, and Ianto is really going to have to find out just how scary River can be, because he’s pretty sure he’ll like her even more after seeing her in action.

“Good!” Elizabeth says, giving her hands a little clap. “Now that we’ve got that settled, I’m going to go get started on dinner. Ianto, you’re invited to stay, obviously.”

“Oh, um, I don’t know…” Ianto hedges, remembering the last time he agreed to stick around for more time than necessary and how upset Jack had been with him.

“He’ll stay,” Jack says from beside him immediately. Ianto turns to look at him a little incredulously as Elizabeth and Franklin nod and move out of the room.

“What? You drove all the way here and got naked with me; the least I can do is feed you.”

Ianto smiles at that, strangely feeling a bit warm and fuzzy about the whole thing, which is a little embarrassing.

“Plus, this way I can use you as a human shield when River finds out they wouldn’t let us in for lessons. She’s going to blow up when she hears what a bunch of homophobes the arseholes are, and the fallout ain’t gonna be pretty.”

“And here I thought you were starting to like me,” Ianto sighs dramatically.

Jack grins hugely, “Not on your life, tiger.”

\-----

River does have a minor freak out, raging through about half of dinner about how terrible, disgusting, small-minded neanderthals are out to ruin her wedding and hurt her brother. She threatens violence against the owners and the company itself, and shouts and cries in near equal measure. 

He has to stop himself from laughing at the fact that River’s accent grows thicker and thicker the angrier she gets. He knows logically that the Harknesses are Scottish, but he never really thinks about it anymore. Jack is just Jack. The fact that he has an accent - even if it has dulled somewhat from living in Wales for over half his life - doesn’t really ever register with him anymore. It is what it is.

River puts on quite an impressive display, though Ianto privately thinks that Gray and Jack have exaggerated just a bit. 

Then again, from the way the entire Harkness clan is flinching at every hurled insult and every falling tear, scooting their chairs subtly away from where River is flailing in anger, Ianto thinks that maybe he’s just more used to outrageous displays so that it is only to him that the outburst seems understated. Having a father that likes to rant and rave at just about anything from sports, to his food not being right, to Ianto not being good enough, Ianto thinks he’s been inoculated against anger. His father is one of those people where, when you go to a restaurant and the service isn’t perfect or the food is a bit wrong, he will make a big fuss. Ianto always wants to shrink in his chair in embarrassment.

The only other person who doesn’t look like they have hellfire raining down around them is Jodie, who just continues to quietly eat her meal as her fiancee rages on. She nods along to her insults, adds her support and opinion when River turns to her looking for it, and manages to even ask Ianto to pass the salt when River has to pause to breathe. When River begins to calm, Jodie rubs a soothing hand over her back and whispers something in River’s ear that makes River blush a little sheepishly and smile. Ianto can suddenly completely understand why they love each other, and why their marriage is going to work, because they so clearly do. When the situation calls for one of them to be the ‘cooler head,’ they step up.

Eventually, River agrees that threatening violence might be a bit drastic, and though she still wants to cancel all the dance lessons in protest, Jodie gently reminds her that they have a whole wedding party signed up, most of whom may need a refresher course on their waltz and two step after several years away from society and off at college and the like. She reluctantly agrees that it would be awfully hard to find a new class for the large group this late in the game, but when Gray offers to take some of the other men in their wedding party for a spin in protest, the tension breaks and River starts to laugh.

Even though she’s upset about the turn of events, and enraged on Ianto and Jack’s behalf, she is adamant that they take the lessons Elizabeth signed them up for. Jack’s attempts to weasel out of it were met with a rekindled glare and a firm declaration that ‘You will go, you will like it, and, damn it, I will dance with my brother at my wedding - and not in a lame circling shuffle either - or else!’

And that is how Ianto finds himself in a too-warm room at a dance studio in the middle of Newport City centre on the last Monday in June. Clearly, the damn air-conditioning unit is broken.

“This is hell,” Jack mutters beside him. “I am in actual hell right now.”

“Well, it’s certainly hot enough,” Ianto agrees, earning himself a playful shoulder nudge and a tiny smile breaking through the gloom on Jack’s face.

“And the company’s right,” he adds, smirking at Jack more fully. “Who better to visit hell with than Mephistopheles himself?”

Jack’s smile widens, and he looks much more predatory than he did a moment ago. “Does that make you Faust then, tiger? Trading your soul to the devil?”

“Suddenly, this all feels like it’s hitting a little close to home,” Ianto mutters darkly.

“The question is,” Jack is continuing. “Which Faust will you be? The redeemed or the irredeemable? Saved in the end, or sinning with me for eternity?”

Of course Jack would have read every fucking version of the damn allegory, Ianto thinks bitterly. And, of course, he’d push the damn thing to a place where Ianto is suddenly much less comfortable than he likes to think about. Especially since the idea of ‘sinning for eternity’ with Jack brings to mind much too vivid images of the other day, pressed together nearly naked on Jack’s large bed in the sunshine.

He’s saved from having to answer or think much further on dangerous things by a tiny woman whistling loudly from the centre of the dance floor.

“Alight everyone, if you could please gather ‘round!” she shouts, and the various twosomes and moresomes that have gathered around the edges of the room move in. Jack sighs heavily and rolls his eyes, but nevertheless steps to the centre of the room at Ianto’s side without further complaint.

“Great!” the woman says. “Hello everyone, we’re so excited to see so many faces here for our all-inclusive ballroom dancing series! I’m Jenny and this is my partner Kieran, and we’re going to be your instructors for the next few weeks!”

She gestures to an attractive man on the outskirts of the circled students, who kind of reminds Ianto of a more wiry Idris Elba whom he’s had a crush on for many years - he may have fantasised about him at one point or another. Suddenly, the evening is looking up.

“Oh my god, if she gets any more chipper, I think I might actually choose death-by-River over four weeks of this,” Jack whispers into Ianto’s ear, distracting him from his thoughts and making him chuckle.

The sound attracts Jenny’s attention, and she beams at them before moving forward to tug them both into the centre of the room with her. Ianto would laugh at the look on Jack’s face, but he’s pretty sure his expression matches it.

“Now I know some of you, like these gorgeous gentlemen, are here with a partner of the same gender, but never fear! Both Kieran and I have lots of experience dancing with same-gender partners, so we’ll be able to get you moving together perfectly in no time!”

She smiles at the group, and Ianto is tempted to roll his eyes along with Jack, but then Kieran shoots him a wink and a blinding smile, and Ianto can’t help but smile back instead. He turns to see Jack glowering at him, which puts the scowl right back on his face.

“Alright everyone, pair up!” Jenny declares, before turning to the boys she’s still got trapped by her side.

“Now, you two are just going to be perfect,” she says immediately. “You look gorgeous together, and I can even teach you both to lead without much adjustment since neither of you is drastically taller than the other!”

“Goody,” Jack mutters, and Jenny tuts at him reprovingly before turning to whisper loudly and conspiratorially to Ianto.

“Let me guess, Mr. Grumpy here is the one who needs the lessons, but not the one who wanted to come. Am I right?”

“Oh, you don’t know the half of it,” Ianto whispers back, grinning at Jack’s pout.

Jenny laughs a bit loudly, but genuinely, at that and then pulls at their arms to get them facing each other in the middle of the floor. In the background, the music starts up, and Ianto lifts his arms in expectation.

When Jack just continues to stare at him, he rolls his eyes.

“Oh for heaven’s sake, here,” he says, grabbing Jack’s hands to get him in the proper stance. “Look, I’ll even let you lead.”

Jack still looks grumpy, but lets himself be moved into position.

“How am I supposed to lead if I don’t even know what I’m doing?” he grumbles.

“I’ll show you,” Ianto says, softening his tone just a little. “Unless you want me to lead to start with?”

“No way,” Jack says immediately. “It’s going to be a disaster either way, so I might as well lead the march.”

“Not exactly a ‘march’ that we’re looking for here.” Ianto laughs, earning another scowl.

“You two are adorable!” Jenny declares. “How long have you been together?”

“We’re not,” Jack says quickly, shrugging when Ianto looks at him in disbelief. “What? No one here knows us, and it’s not like they’re going to be reporting back to my mum.”

“Fine,” Ianto says, trying to keep the unexpected hurt from his face. It’s not that he’s upset about not dating Jack, duh, but he supposes he’d gotten a little caught up in the whole dance class atmosphere and let his stupid romantic brain run away with him. It’s not that he wants to date Jack, he insists to himself, it’s that he’s in a setting designed to make you feel couple-y and now is forced to once again face his own single-status. That’s all.

“Oh-kay,” Jenny says, eyeing them a little disbelievingly. “If you say so. Though you’re still adorable.”

Ianto gives her a tight smile and Jack just looks bored. Jenny gives Ianto a sympathetic pat on the shoulder and a not-so-quietly whispered ‘Good luck with that one,’ before moving on to help the other couples get into dance position.

\-----

“This is stupid,” Jack mutters nearly an hour later.

They’ve been kind of dancing, well if you consider Ianto getting his toes stepped on every few minutes and admonishing Jack about his limp-noodle arms ‘dancing,’ and Ianto is already over this whole thing. How had he ever thought dance classes could be romantic?

“May I cut in for a moment?”

Ianto looks up to find Kieran smiling at them kindly, and oh yes. That’s how he could have thought it.

“Whatever,” Jack mutters, dropping Ianto’s hand immediately. He looks a little surprised and a lot disgruntled however, when Kieran moves in to take his place instead of turning to dance with Jack himself.

“Just watch,” Kieran tells Jack kindly. “You aren’t actually doing too badly, but your partner is trying to lead you from a follow-position, which is confusing you both.”

“I knew it was your fault!” Jack accuses, pointing a finger at Ianto who is mostly trying not to stare or turn red, as Kieran begins to lead him in a flawless set of steps.

“Now, now, no accusations,” Kieran says, smiling at Ianto. “He was trying to teach, and it is very hard to teach someone to lead while dancing with them.”

Jack huffs loudly, as if he still thinks it’s mostly Ianto’s fault.

“Now watch my frame for a moment,” Kieran says again. “Do you see how I’m leading my partner with my whole body? You are trying to do it with just your feet, but your partner can’t stare at your feet all the time. They need to feel it in the push of your arms, the lean of your torso. You must dance together as a unit, communicating with your bodies. It is much like sex, is it not?”

Ianto flushes even darker then, Kieran still smiling at him with those ridiculously white teeth and dark eyes. Jack looks even more put-out.

“If it was like sex, I wouldn’t be having any trouble,” he grumps.

“No? Then show me,” Kieran says, stepping back from Ianto and giving him a little bow before handing him back off to Jack. “Pretend you are making love to your partner, show him how you want him to move with you.”

Ianto isn’t quite sure how dance lessons suddenly became sex ed, and he absolutely does not want to be thinking about Jack showing him how to move his body like they’re ‘making love.’ As if Jack would even know the meaning of those words.

“Fine,” Jack says, voice hard. He grabs Ianto’s hand and forces it back up roughly, glaring the whole time. He starts to move again, but ends up just pulling Ianto to and fro until Ianto’s shoulder is starting to ache.

“No, you idiot, you don’t pull at me,” Ianto hisses, trying to shake himself loose. “God, don’t you understand subtlety at all? Oh that’s right, I forgot who I was talking to.”

“Just like I forgot I was dancing with the uptight ice king,” Jack jeers back. “I don’t know how I’m supposed do dance with you like we’re having sex when you wouldn’t know good sex if it hit you in the face.”

“Well at least I’m not getting ‘hit in the face’ by sex literally every other night!”

“At least I’m not a prude!”

“Yeah, well, I’d rather be that than the guy who bends over for anything!”

“Well, I’d rather be-”

“Ah, I see now,” Kieran interrupts, laughing and startling the boys from their argument. “I’m sorry, I’m not laughing at you really. It’s just Jenny said it was so, but I wasn’t so sure at first.”

“Sure about what?” Jack asks sullenly, glaring at Ianto again. Ianto fights the urge to stick his tongue out like a five year old.

“That you two are still fighting your sexual tension instead of embracing it,” Kieran says.

“We don’t have sexual tension!” Ianto says firmly. “It’s impossible to have tension with someone as easy as him.”

“Fuck you! It’s impossible to have anything sexual with you and your pasty baby face!”

They glare at each other some more, and not even Jenny coming to join them can get them to stop their staring match.

“What did I tell you?” she says smugly. “Enough tension to light up a whole city.”

“A city?” Kieran asks, teasingly. “If we could bottle the energy between these two, we could solve the world energy crisis.”

Ianto and Jack both turn their glares on their instructors then instead.

“I only hope you two figure it out before my class is over,” Jenny says with a wistful sigh. “Because once you do, you’re going to be unstoppable on the dance floor.”

Kieran laughs, but nods in agreement. He claps a companionable hand on Jack’s shoulder, which Jack shrugs off in annoyance, before they leave the boys alone on the floor.

“They’re crazy,” Jack mutters. “Just so you know. I wouldn’t want all their insane theories putting ideas in your head.”

“Please,” Ianto scoffs. “They clearly have no idea what they’re talking about. They’re teaching classes to amateurs for goodness sake, I hardly think they could be experts in anything.”

Jack gives him a hesitant smile, and Ianto returns it.

“Do you want to take off?” Ianto asks a minute later. “I can lie to your parents if you want, or we can just tell them that you were hopeless and they kicked us out.”

“As tempting as that sounds.” Jack sighs. “I suppose it wouldn’t kill me to learn something before the wedding. It would make River happy.”

“That’s… actually kind of sweet,” Ianto says. “That you care if your sister is happy.”

“Whatever, I just don’t want her to yell at me for stepping on her toes,” Jack says, but he’s smiling truly again now.

“Either way.” Ianto smiles back. “I suppose it wouldn’t kill me to try to actually let you lead. I don’t think it could be any worse than the last hour has been at least.”

“You know just because you’ve said that, it’s going to be infinitely worse, don’t you?” Jack teases.

“Then I suppose it’s a good thing we have four whole weeks for you to learn,” Ianto returns, and steps back in Jack’s arms when he holds them up in invitation.

\-----

They don’t actually get too much better during the last hour of the class, but they don’t get worse either so Ianto is counting it as a win.

The sky is just starting to light up with the colours of the sunset when they walk out of the building, and the air is cooling to a more pleasant temperature as some of the day’s humidity begins to dissipate. Jack playfully shoves at his shoulder when Ianto pretends to limp heavily as they walk together down the street and toward the multi-storey car park which holds Jack’s car.

“Shut up, I wasn’t that bad,” he pouts, though the grin on his face ruins the effect a bit.

“No, you really weren’t,” Ianto concedes. Jack looks pleased for a moment until Ianto’s smile turns evil and he adds, “You were much, much more.”

“Well you’ve got three more lessons to turn me around, tiger, otherwise you’re going to be the only one dancing with me at the wedding.”

“How do you know this isn’t all part of my evil plot to keep you all to myself?” Ianto quips. He realises what he’s said a moment later when Jack misses half a step at the words, and his face floods red once again.

“I didn’t- I mean…” he stutters, wishing the pavement would swallow him up.

He’s just waiting for Jack to tease him, to make some joke and then never let this go, but Jack just grins at him.

“Nah,” Jack says finally. “If you had a hidden agenda like that, I would expect it to come with ‘evil plan’ outfits, whereas you are clearly wearing your ‘I have to go to dance lessons with my fake boyfriend even though I can’t stand him’ outfit today.”

“Of course,” Ianto manages to say lightly, hardly able to believe he’s being let off the hook. “How silly of him.”

“If you ever do start enacting an evil plan though, I recommend lots of black,” Jack adds, bumping shoulders with him again. “It sends the right kind of message.”

“And here I had been considering pink,” Ianto jokes back.

“Oh no, that would be sending all kinds of mixed signals,” Jack chides him, mock stern. “Pink is the colour of secret marriage proposals. You wear that to an evil plan, and suddenly you’re at the altar with your mortal enemy and that would never do.”

“Never,” Ianto agrees faintly, a softer smile on his face.

They’ve reached the car park now, and are standing perhaps a bit too close together on the pavement outside. Ianto feels hesitant to step inside, and he’s not sure why he feels that way except that perhaps he’s not quite ready for this bizarre night to end.

He thinks about maybe asking if Jack wants to wander around town for a bit, enjoy the evening, but he’s not sure how to ask. They still aren’t really friends, even though Ianto feels like all this pretending has made them closer to that than enemies.

It’s strange, thinking back over the past few weeks and all the little moments that started to change things, until they are now something other than what they were before. Ianto feels like if he could just define what that new something was he’d have a better handle on his own feelings about the situation, and probably not feel so awkward about making a simple offer to hang out. They aren’t friends, they aren’t boyfriends, they aren’t enemies or any of the other sundry things they’ve been to each other over the years, any longer. They are just… Ianto and Jack.

Allies, maybe, Ianto decides. It’s not quite the right word either, but it’s closer than any he’s found so far. But do allies wander around a city together after sunset, or do they ride home in darkness and part ways with nothing more than mutual acknowledgement? He’s not sure.

He’s just about to say screw it and ask anyway when Jack’s phone blares to life, his ringtone singing out about being here for your entertainment. (Adam Lambert, Ianto realises, recognising that voice. Jack is clearly, very much, still into him after all these years.) Ianto thinks it is a bit on the nose, but it amuses him nonetheless.

Jack gives him an apologetic grimace, which is just another sign of that new something that they are to each other. A month ago Jack wouldn’t have thought twice about answering his phone when with Ianto, in fact, he’d probably jump at the chance to extract himself from their conversation.

“Hello?” he asks, tone making it clear that he isn’t quite sure who it is calling. A moment later, though, his expression falls back into more familiar lines, the cocky smirk that is Jack’s armour sitting easily on his face. For some reason, Ianto feels disappointed to see it there.

“Oh hey,” he says, voice a smooth purr, pausing to listen again before laughing in a way that, Ianto is a bit startled to realise, he knows is not genuine.

“Yeah… yeah I could probably- no, that sounds good,” he’s continuing, shooting little sideways glances in Ianto’s direction every few seconds.

Ianto shifts from one foot to the other, feeling a bit like he’s eavesdropping. What is he supposed to do, though? Jack has the car keys, and he’s the one who answered the phone while standing next to Ianto. Ianto can feel his own icy armour settling over him.

If he doesn’t want me to hear, then he can be the one to walk away, he decides, and plants his feet more firmly against the pavement to keep himself from shifting again.

“Where- yeah, yeah I remember… no, I’ve got it on me, I shouldn’t need-”

Obviously the person on the other end keeps interrupting, and Ianto thinks viciously that it’s no wonder Jack’s phone manners are so atrocious if those are the kinds of people he talks with.

“Sure,” Jack says finally, and Ianto straightens up a bit, anticipating the end of the conversation. Maybe then they can finally get on with whatever this evening is going to be.

“Yeah- um, maybe thirty minutes or so?” Jack says, voice a little more hesitant than it was before, and he’s looking at Ianto with that strange expression again. “I just need to tie some things up here. Okay- yeah, see you.”

He ends the call and slips the phone back in his pocket smoothly, shoving both of his hands into his pockets too. Ianto is coming to associate that particular tic with Jack being uncomfortable about something, and he finds he’s bracing himself as if for a blow, though, for the life of him, he can’t tell why.

“Everything alright?” he asks, voice one of calm disinterest. He’s pretty sure it doesn’t even sound forced.

“What? Oh, yeah- that was just…”

“It’s fine Jack, I’m not your mother,” Ianto says more dismissively than he feels. “You don’t have to invent lies about who you talk to for my sake.”

“I know that.” Jack scowls, and oh yes. The armour is definitely back on. For the first time, Ianto thinks his own feels heavy between them instead of safe.

“Fine, good, can we go then?” Ianto asks with a huff. He no longer feels like wandering around town, and Jack feels more like an enemy again at the moment.

“Actually, I’m going to meet some people,” Jack says, and his tone is still hard and confrontational, but he’s not really looking at Ianto either.

“Okay…” Ianto says. “You do remember we drove in together, don’t you? You can’t just leave me here.”

He wonders for a moment if maybe there was an invitation to the statement, a question of whether Ianto wants to ‘meet up’ with some people too. He’s not sure he does but thinks the invitation might actually soothe what is starting to feel, weirdly, like wounded pride.

“Yeah, thanks, I know that, Ianto. I’m not an idiot. You can take the car.”

Jack pulls one hand out of his pocket to dangle the Range Rover’s keys in front of Ianto’s face. And, though Ianto has often thought about getting a chance to get behind the wheel of one of the Harkness cars since this whole thing started, the gesture feels more like a slap in the face at the moment.

Definitely not an invitation then.

He hates even more that the next thing out of his mouth isn’t scathing or defensive or even witty. It is concern.

“What about you? How’re you going to get home? I’m not just going to abandon you in town.”

“It’s fine,” Jack says and jingles the keys in front of Ianto until he reaches to take them. “Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve found my way home.”

Ianto knows he’s telling the truth, knows that Jack has probably had many occasions on which he’s had to find a way back from one hookup or another. Hell, less than a week ago he was heading to The Kings with no idea where he’d be sleeping, so finding a ride home can’t be that much more of an issue for him. But it sits uncomfortably in Ianto’s gut, the thought of Jack relying on these unknown people to get him home (well unknown to Ianto at least, for all he knows Jack’s got a whole network of amazing friends in the city. Somehow Ianto doubts it).

“I can- I’ll…” Ianto stops, unsure of what he’s been trying to offer. To come back to pick Jack up later? To wait around Newport for him to finish getting off? To call a cab to take him all the way back to Ianto’s so Jack doesn’t have to give him the car? None of those things are real options, or at least not acceptable ones.

“It’s fine, Ianto,” Jack says. “Just take the car. You can bring it out next time you come to the house. Hell, it’ll probably add to our fucking credibility as a couple, because I don’t let anyone drive my baby.”

“Won’t your parents think it’s strange when you get dropped off by some stranger later?” Ianto asks, unwilling to let it go yet. 

“You act like I don’t have years of keeping those kinds of things under the radar,” Jack smirks. “Don’t worry I won’t blow our cover.”

“Well, excuse me for asking,” Ianto snaps. “It’s just that if I recall correctly, it’s your inability to keep things under the radar that got us into this whole mess.”

Jack’s face hardens, and his voice has shifted to match. “Thanks, I’m well aware that I fucked up. Jesus, you just said you aren’t my mother, so stop fucking nagging me about this!”

Ianto wants to throw the keys back at him, wants to stomp his foot and scream and tell Jack that he’s being reckless and stupid, wants to say ‘You’re hurting my feelings’ even though that can’t be true, because it would mean that Ianto actually cared. Instead, he just lets his own eyes go ice-cold and his chin tip up a fraction of an inch higher.

“You’re right; you should just go do whatever you want. If you screw it up, you’ll be the one to have to explain. It’s absolutely none of my business.”

There is a war of some sort of emotion going on behind Jack’s eyes, but in the end, the victor isn’t clear, at least not to Ianto. Jack just closes off and backs down into the easy nonchalance and superiority that used to mark so many of their encounters.

“You know how to get out of here?” he asks, already stepping back from Ianto.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” Ianto says. He refrains from adding ‘Will you?’ because it isn’t any of his business. Jack has made that abundantly clear.

“Good. Don’t crash my car.”

The last is said with almost that same fond teasing quality that has started to become more their norm, though it is a little more forced than usual.

“I won’t,” Ianto promises. “Don’t… just be safe, yeah?”

He doesn’t mean to say it, but he can’t bring himself to regret it once it’s hanging between them. Jack can tell him to butt out, but he can’t make Ianto stop caring. Not even Ianto can stop it, and his life would be so much easier if he could just switch it off.

“Yeah, sure,” Jack says with a shrug, but finally his smile is genuine again.

There are no goodbyes, Jack just begins walking backward down the street, hands shoved deep in his pockets once more and smirking at Ianto. When he steps out of the circle of light from a streetlight and into the growing shadows of twilights, Ianto feels something sharp tug in his chest and forces himself to turn to the car park and think about getting home.

When he gets to the car, he takes a moment to close his eyes and breathe in and out deeply, before climbing into the car. Ianto navigates out of town, heading towards the M4. He has turned the radio on to a loud enough volume to wash him clean of feeling and emotion, so that when his thoughts drift he can examine them without being overwhelmed for once.

He thinks about Lisa, about date nights between them and how it had always been easy even when it was awkward at the beginning, all blushes and sweet hesitance. He thinks about how Lisa would have jumped at the idea of dance lessons, would have urged him to spin her around the room in a parody of real steps, laughing and singing Disney songs in his ear, and then begged until Ianto dipped her. But Lisa would have never quietly mocked their instructors with Ianto like Jack had done for the last hour of class.

He thinks about how Lisa might be doing those things in New York right now, dancing somewhere with her fellow course members and new friends, but even with the howling of the music, he can’t keep that thought from making him ache so he discards the imaginings and thinks again about what he and Lisa used to do.

The thing that he keeps coming back to, is the end of those nights with Lisa, and not in the backseat fumbling sense. He’s mostly thinking about how Lisa always made sure he got home safe, how even after one of their worst arguments ever, they had texted each other when they were both home in bed. On nights when Ianto would drop Lisa home after a date, walking her to the door and then she would sit with her phone until Ianto called to say he was home safe and sound. Even before they were dating, when they were just friends, Lisa would do those things - always needing to know Ianto was safe before she could go to sleep at night.

That is how Ianto knows that he and Jack aren’t friends, not really. Or at least they will never be the kinds of friends that he and Lisa were. And, as if it wasn’t clear for a million reasons already, it is also why Ianto knows he and Jack will never be anything more than friends (not that he’d want it, not that he’d ever ever want it).

By the time he pulls up outside his own house, the music has carried away not only his emotions but his thoughts as well, and Ianto heads in and to bed feeling hollowed out and empty. It is not entirely unpleasant.

Just before he’s about to shut his eyes and at least pretend to sleep, his phone chimes on the bed beside him.

 **Jack** (11:07 pm): _You didn’t scratch the car, did you?_

 **Ianto** (11:07 pm): _No, your baby is parked outside my house unharmed. I’m a better driver than you, remember?_

 **Jack** (11:09 pm): _Can’t blame a guy for making sure. Goodnight, Ianto._

There are a million things Ianto wants to say, wants to ask if Jack is still at a club or has he gone home with someone? Wants to ask if he’s heading home tonight, or not until morning, or if he’s even now in Newport trying to find a ride. But it’s not his place to ask, so he just texts back ‘Goodnight’ instead.

It is only when a few minutes later his eyes close, and he doesn’t have to fake his sudden tiredness that he thinks maybe Jack asking about the car was, in some twisted sense, his way of making sure Ianto got home safe after all.

It may not be walking him to his door at the end of the night, but it is something. Ianto is not even aware that he’s smiling as he drifts off into dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks as always to my cheerleader temporalsilence and my beta princessoftheworlds :)
> 
> if you don't know who 'Kieran' is, he is an ex-colleague of ianto's from torchwood one, who ianto had a crush on ;)
> 
> i should probably give you guys a rough estimate of what [jack's house looks like](https://www.rightmove.co.uk/property-for-sale/property-69992766.html). it is very loosely based on this. if you look at the floor plan, jack's bedroom is bedroom 8 and bedroom 4 is the 'study'.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Jones family get invited to the Harkness home for Franklin's birthday.

“So you’re invited to my Dad’s birthday barbecue on Saturday,” Jack says over the phone on Tuesday. “And by invited, I mean your presence is mandatory.”

“Okay,” Ianto agrees easily.

He’s only been up for an hour, but he’s had a cup and a half of coffee and has beaten Rhiannon at four rounds of Mario Kart so he’s feeling pretty good about life. He doesn’t ask if Jack made it home last night or is just getting in now, doesn’t think about where - or with who - he might have slept. It’ll only ruin his good mood.

“I’ll have to check in with my parents, just to make sure we don’t have any other plans, but that shouldn’t be a problem.”

“No, I mean you’re all invited,” Jack corrects. “My dad apparently had the brilliant idea this morning to invite the entire Jones clan over for the barbecue, so you are all expected. Obviously their presence isn’t something I can make mandatory, as I’m not paying them £5,000 to pretend to like me all summer, but it would probably be good if you could get them to come.”

“Oh,” Ianto responds, struck a little dumb with shock. That was not what he’d expected. “Sure, yeah. I’ll, um, I’ll check but that’s probably doable.”

“Good,” Jack sighs in relief. “I mean, I know it’s last minute but I’m pretty sure my dad hasn’t been this excited since marriage equality passed, and if I told him he wasn’t going to get to spend the day talking barbecue techniques with Ifan Jones, he might’ve cried.”

Ianto laughs loud enough to startle Rhiannon who’s been staring dejectedly into her rainbow coloured milk since Ianto won the last race. He can hear an answering chuckle on the other end, and for the first time since they parted ways last night, he feels completely at ease again.

“I’ll be sure to tell my dad that,” Ianto says, smile in his voice. “He wouldn’t want to be responsible for making a grown man cry. Well, not one who didn’t attack him or his family, first at least.”

“I’ve got to warn you though,” Jack says in the serious voice he uses when he’s trying to hide his amusement. “Expect lots of ‘meet the parents’ jokes. I was just informed of the invite half an hour ago, and Gray has made about fifty different comments about the ‘future in-law’ thing.”

“You just tell Gray that my dad and Rhiannon are still about sixty percent convinced he was here to defile me with his nefarious sexual appetites the other night, and that they’ve both told me they’ll be ‘keeping an eye on him.’ That ought to shut him up.”

Jack laughs delightedly at that, and Ianto can hear him put the phone against his chest as he shouts something to someone in another room. He must get a response because after a moment he laughs brightly, shouting back once more through his laughter. He is still chuckling a bit when he brings the phone back to his ear to talk to Ianto.

“He says that he’ll take the scrutiny if it means he actually gets to defile you with his sexual appetites.”

“Oh really?” Ianto hums, amused though not entirely certain it’s a joke.

“Yeah, don’t worry though; I told him he’d have to get through me first. Which didn’t exactly dissuade him, but I’m pretty sure he’s laughing hard enough at the thought of me protecting your virtue to at least be distracted from his pursuit.”

“My hero,” Ianto drawls sarcastically, though he’s still grinning and can hear an answering one in the shared silence of the moment between them over the phone.

“Hey, what kind of guy would I be if I just stood by and let someone besmirch your virtue, tiger?” Jack teases after a minute.

“Um, exactly the kind of guy that you actually are?”

“Oh, damn, you’re right. Hang on a sec; I’ll tell him you’re fair game after all.”

Ianto huffs indignantly, but Jack doesn’t actually call out to his brother - just laughs at Ianto again instead - and Ianto is still grinning.

“So you should probably show up around two or so,” Jack says when the companionable silence stretches a bit too long.

“Sure, I’ll, um, I’ll bring your car back then.”

“Cool. If you need a ride back later…”

“No, I’ll just be able to ride back with my parents.”

“Oh okay… I mean good, that’s good,” Jack says hastily. He pauses again and then laughs at the weird awkwardness that has fallen over them all of a sudden. When Ianto laughs in turn, things feel easy again. Ianto is learning the pattern of it. The way they hit peaks and valleys, though more often than not these days, he’s finding that the awkward valleys are easier to climb out of.

“Oh!” Jack adds after another second. “And I’m supposed to tell you that you can bring your swimsuits if you want, we’ve got the pool open.”

“Rhi will be thrilled,” Ianto says, already anticipating trying to stop the cannonballs that will soak them all if Rhiannon gets a chance.

“What’s gonna thrill me?” Rhiannon asks from beside him, looking up with interest again.

“Pool,” Ianto mouths to her quietly, and though Rhiannon has no further context for where or why, her entire face lights immediately and she goes right into a silent fist pump, making Ianto roll his eyes fondly.

“Also, um, I wanted to tell you that we are going to be having an outdoor showing of my dad’s favourite film on a projector,” Jack adds, speaking a little nervously. “You don’t have to bring blankets or chairs or anything, we’ve got that covered, but I, ah, I thought you’d probably want to know so that you can wear something you don’t mind sitting on the ground in.”

“That is weirdly sweet actually,” Ianto says a little disbelievingly.

Jack scoffs immediately. “Yeah, well, I just didn’t want to have to listen to your bitching about grass stains.”

“Sure, okay,” Ianto teases. “Still sweet, though. You’re stuck with it now.”

“Fuck you,” Jack grumbled, but his heart isn’t really in it, Ianto can tell.

“Mmm, sounds like you’ve passed that job along to Gray, what with me being fair game and all.”

“And I’m done talking to you now,” Jack deadpans. “Your voice is entirely too loud to deal with before noon when I’ve got a hangover the size of Scotland already.”

“I guess that answers my questions about how last night went,” Ianto says sarcastically, even as he pinches his own thigh in self-reprimand. Wasn’t going to ask, fuck.

“No, that answers your question about how this morning is going. Last night was a much better story.”

“Lovely, but I think you’ll have to save it for someone who doesn’t have a gag reflex, I’m already feeling nauseous just thinking about it,” Ianto groans.

“Funnily enough, my night actually involves someone with no gag reflex-”

“Goodbye Jack,” Ianto cuts him off, and he can hear Jack still laughing on the other end of the line as he disconnects the call.

“Everything alright, love?” Rhiannon asks him, eyeing the phone warily and startling Ianto, who’d almost forgotten his sister was still there.

“What? Oh yeah, just Jack being Jack.”

“Huh,” Rhiannon says, looking as if she’s trying to figure out exactly what that means. “But, you like, like him being Jack now, right? He’s not, like, frustrating you anymore?”

“Oh, he is most definitely frustrating me,” Ianto says with a smile. “Though, I suppose, I just don’t mind being frustrated so much now, and the rest of the time, he kind of makes up for it.”

He’s meant to say it as part of the ‘boyfriend’ cover, to reassure Rhiannon that there is no trouble in his glittering false paradise. He finds, however, that he mostly means it. It’s just one more thing that seems to be happening with near alarming regularity when it comes to Jack; Ianto saying something he thinks is nearly a lie, only to find it’s somehow become true along the way.

He’s pretty sure he’s going to need some form of therapy once this summer is over, at least to get him back to being a person who finds insults and crude jokes annoying again instead of endearing.

“So, the pool, huh? You want to head over there today or something?” Rhiannon cuts in, clearly satisfied with Ianto’s answer and ready to move on to more pressing subjects (at least for her).

“What? No, Rhi, come on; do I look like the kind of person that swims in a public pool?” Last summer, Ianto had taken a job at their local swimming pool, and seeing how filthy they can get from tests, he has never wanted to swim in another.

“You’re the one who brought it up!” Rhiannon says grumpily.

“I was talking about the pool at Jack’s house,” Ianto explains. “His family is inviting us all over on Saturday for his dad’s birthday barbecue, and he was telling me they have their pool uncovered if we want to swim.”

“Oh my god, that’s great!” Rhiannon nearly shouts, bouncing excitedly on the couch. “You can never do any of the cool tricks off the diving board at the public pool, because there’s always little kids swimming under you and the lifeguards yell loudly. This is going to be the best barbecue ever!”

“Well, I have to ask mum and dad if they want to go first,” Ianto mumbles, but Rhiannon is looking at him like he’s being stupid which he probably is. As if his parents are going to turn down an opportunity to embarrass him in front of his supposed boyfriend’s parents.

“Fine, yes, we’ll probably get to go,” he concedes. When Ianto sips at his coffee though, Rhiannon just stares at him until he’s forced to ask, “What, Rhi?”

“Are you going to call and ask?”

“I thought I’d ask at dinner.”

“Oh,” Rhiannon sounds so disappointed that Ianto sighs exasperatedly and then lifts his phone to dial.

“Fine, I’ll ask now.”

His parents are, predictably, nearly gleeful at the thought, though Ianto isn’t sure how much of that is due to the opportunity to further scrutinise the boy their son is dating and how much is due to the idea of his dad getting a chance to look at all the cars Ianto’s told him the Harknesses have. It doesn’t matter though, Ianto thinks, as he sends off a confirmation text to Jack. Either way, it seems the Joneses are spending their Saturday at Jack’s.

\-----

Ianto is awoken very early on Saturday by the beeping of his phone, indicating a reminder popping up on his calendar.

Considering he didn’t actually set the reminder, he is naturally first grumpy at the disturbance and then curious. The minute he opens the screen on his phone, he really wishes the battery had died or something during the night.

It is a simple note, nothing more than the number ‘47’ followed by a smiley face, but it brings reality crashing back around Ianto’s shoulders unpleasantly. Because it means that Lisa set the alarm, and now Ianto is going to have to look at one more broken promise.

It had started back in autumn, after they’d taken their relationship to the next level, and Lisa had become infatuated with the fact that Ianto had an actual bucket list. They’d spent many hours reading through it and laughing, and then adding more items on as they spent more time both discovering each other and sharing their fantasies and dreams.

Lisa had even gone so far as to take some of the items (#98 - kiss someone under the mistletoe, #19 - learn to throw a punch, #33 - cook souffle successfully, #188 - have someone sit on his face) and plugged them in to Ianto’s calendar on his phone, setting reminders so that on those days, they would have to try and cross the items off the list.

It’d been fun, and often sexy, getting random little reminders here and there throughout the rest of the year, and then completing the tasks. It felt like tackling little dreams together, and Ianto thought it would only make them more ready to tackle the big ones too. But the last reminder had gone off and been completed back in May (#116 - slow dance with someone I love), and then with the break-up and the craziness of the past two months, Ianto had honestly forgotten all about them.

Now though, he’s having to pull up his list and scroll with rising dread to #47, to see what it is that he and Lisa were supposed to do together today that he will now have to either ignore or do alone.

#47 - kiss my partner on a picnic blanket under the stars

Well, there’s no way he can cross that off the list alone. He feels the hot burn behind his eyes of threatening tears, because of course, that one little item has brought back memories of conversations and plans, whispers about sneaking out of the Jones house to find a secluded corner in the park to stretch out and stargaze, or barring that, convincing Ifan to pull out the ladder and let them climb up on the roof. It had all been tied up in talks about making this entire summer special, something for them to hold on to once Ianto was in London and Lisa was in Edinburgh.

Well, you know what they say about the best-laid plans.

Ianto turns off the chirping reminder alarm and closes his bucket list before tossing his phone to the floor. He tells himself he will take the next ten minutes to mourn, and then he’s got to move on with his day.

Fifteen minutes later, he’s still pressing the heels of his hands to his eyes and holding in deep breaths to keep from sobbing. It feels like something is trying to claw its way out of his chest, it hurts, and there is nothing that can make it better. Because this is the first time he’s really had to confront a specific loss. Sure he’s missed Lisa’s presence, and he’s wished he could be spending the summer with the girl he loves. He’s felt useless and abandoned and sad. But now, now he has something tangible that has been taken from him, and it is #47 on his bucket list. Lisa took that with her when she left, and Ianto can’t get it back. Not today.

So even when he manages to drag himself out of bed an additional half hour later, he can’t force the smile. He lets the shower hide his tears (even from himself) and barely even looks in the mirror when he climbs out and starts his typical hair and skin care routine. It is all just going through the motions; getting dressed, greeting his family, choking down breakfast. The first sign of relief comes when he climbs into the Range Rover and hits the open road, the music just as freeing as it was the other night. Not even Rhiannon singing to Taylor Swift in the passenger seat (she’d insisted on riding with Ianto, and Ianto wasn’t in the mindset to even argue even if he wanted to) can penetrate the empty calm that the noise is giving to him.

By the time they are pulling up to the gates of the Harkness estate, his mum and dad right behind them, Ianto doesn’t feel better, but he does feel more numb. It’s better than nothing.

“Hello Joneses!” Franklin greets enthusiastically as they all climb out of their cars and gather on the gravel drive close to the front door. Ianto’s family returns the greeting, and they all start to move toward the house as Franklin chatters on about how wonderful it is to have them there, and how excited Elizabeth and the kids are to welcome them into the family.

Rhiannon looks a little bewildered, as if Franklin is not at all what she expected of Jack Harkness’ father (to be fair, Ianto can definitely understand where she’s coming from, knowing that she had never met him when they were younger). Even in his own gloom though, Ianto notices his mum tugging nervously at the hem of her simple sundress and realises in an instant that she is feeling a bit overwhelmed by the grandeur of it all. His dad and Rhiannon are easily fascinated and never too ill-at-ease in their own skin, but Ianto recognises some of his own insecurities about never being good enough in his mum every now and again, and sad or not, he’s not going to let that stand.

“You look beautiful,” he whispers in her ear, sidling up next to her on the path as Franklin regales his dad about some new state of the art grill or car or something.

“Thank you, love,” she says, and he can see by the renewed warmth in her eyes that it has helped. “You don’t look too bad yourself.”

Ianto glances down in surprise, mostly because he can’t actually remember what he put on this morning, though he supposes the simple outfit isn’t too bad. It is all very clearly warm coloured at least, so Jack ought to be pleased.

“This place is quite overwhelming,” Ianto surmises, realising that his mum hasn’t seen this place since he was a child, and she would drop him off for play dates at the Harkness estate. “But I promise that they’re still really down to Earth, it isn’t like…” he trails off, having been about to say ‘It isn’t like Lisa’s parents,’ who had been a little cold and extremely formal when they’d met his family at one of Lisa’s school drama shows last year.

His mum seems to understand where he was going with it though and squeezes his arm gently. “I’m glad he’s helping to make you happy,” she whispers.

It’s strange to hear it, on a day when he feels anything but happy, and it is in fact a bit distressing. He’s going to have to play his part today, and being sad about the loss of Lisa and #47 won’t fit with his role as happy boyfriend.

Before he has a chance to say anything, or even choke out an agreement, Jack himself appears.

He’s emerged from the house alongside his mum and River, and Ianto kind of hates that he can’t stop the sharp inhale at the sight, because Jack just looks good. He could be the devil himself, and Ianto would have to admit to that much, because like him or hate him, Jack sure can wear a pair of swimming trunks. His mum must catch the noise because she gives Ianto a wink and a nudge before stepping forward to stand next to her husband.

Jack doesn’t look like he’s actually been in the pool yet, if his hair (still coiffed) is anything to go by, but he’s definitely been out in the sun. The trunks, dark blue, hang low on his hips, and he’s naked from the waist up, chest just as tanned and toned as Ianto remembers it. When they get a little closer, Ianto can see his skin is even a little shiny from sweat and sunscreen, and he smells like chlorine and charcoal and summer, and Ianto hates that he is noticing these things. Worse, that he finds them appealing.

“Hey,” Jack greets them, moving forward automatically to shake Ifan’s hand and kiss Glenda on the cheek as if he’s done it a hundred times before. Ifan has obviously been won over a bit by Franklin, because he returns Jack’s handshake with a more genuine smile than last time and Glenda practically beams at him.

“Gray and Jodie are already out back in the pool,” Elizabeth tells them, smiling herself as Rhiannon’s face lights up. “If you just walk around the side of the house, you’ll run into it."

Rhiannon is off like a shot, and River is following behind after stopping to give Ianto a quick hug hello. The adults laugh at Rhiannon’s enthusiasm and then pretend to be busy talking, offering drinks and making small talk, even though it is clear they are all really watching Jack, who is moving up to greet Ianto.

Ianto rolls his eyes at them and feels a little less numb when Jack returns the sentiment with an exasperated grin.

“Hey,” he says again and leans in to kiss the corner of Ianto’s mouth like they do that all the time too.

“Hi,” Ianto nearly whispers back, and he’s maybe a little glad for the heaviness of his heart because the kiss doesn’t affect him as much as it might have on any other day.

Seemingly satisfied, the adults are truly ignoring them now, but Jack is still staring at him and starting to frown a little.

“Are you okay?” he asks quietly, and his frown only deepens when Ianto lets out a rueful little laugh.

“No, I’m really really not,” he murmurs back. “But now is so not the time to talk about it.”

“Do you want to go talk in my room or something?” Jack asks softly, and for a minute Ianto thinks about that sunlit retreat, all soft warmth and welcoming quietude and it sounds a bit like heaven, but no.

“I’m not so sure my dad would be thrilled with us running off to your bedroom the minute we got here,” he says wryly, and Jack grimaces in agreement.

“We could take a walk…” Jack tries again, but truthfully Ianto really doesn’t want to talk about it, maybe especially with Jack who could so easily hurt him with the information.

“No, let’s just go to the pool with the others before Rhi drowns someone,” he says, forcing a little smile.

Jack is still staring at him unhappily but follows along when Ianto turns to walk around the back of the house in the direction his sister and River headed just a minute ago.

They’re almost around the corner, and Ianto can clearly hear the sounds of splashing and playful yelling, when Jack grabs his arm to stop him. It brings to mind, unexpectedly, the memory of that first day in the coffee shop when Jack’s touch had been so alien to him as to make them both flinch away. Ianto flinches now too, but mostly because he’s a little afraid that if he doesn’t, he’s going to collapse into that hold and sob his heart out. Jack doesn’t let him go though.

“Just, god, just wait a second,” Jack growls in frustration when Ianto tries to tug away.

“What?” Ianto snaps, knows he’s the one throwing up walls this time, but they are all he has; they are all that is keeping his heartache dammed up and stopping him from drowning.

“It’s not me, is it?” Jack asks, and his face still looks hard and angry, but his eyes are worried. “Whatever’s going on with you, it isn’t something I did, is it?”

“No,” Ianto admits, lets a little bit of the wall down. “It’s not you.”

“Okay,” Jack says and lets go of Ianto’s arm. “If you want to talk about it…”

“I wouldn’t come to you,” Ianto says, knows it’s harsh but doesn’t care. They aren’t friends, and even allies don’t expose their weaknesses.

“Fine. Fucking fine,” Jack mutters darkly. “I’m trying to be a good guy for once, but if you’re gonna be an arse about it, then forget it. Just don’t let this fuck up our act.”

“Jack,” Ianto whispers, feeling contrite but entirely too fragile to apologise or take it back. He may hate the armour, but it certainly works.

“No, forget it,” Jack hisses. “Let’s go join the others before your daddy freaks out about us running off to fornicate or something.”

He pauses for another minute anyway, looking at Ianto as if waiting for him to say or do something, but Ianto is numb and walled up again and just wraps his arms around himself and stares at the ground.

“Whatever,” Jack spits out when it’s clear Ianto’s not going to do anything. He shoots one more glare in Ianto’s direction and then storms around the corner. Ianto takes one more deep, shuddering breath, pastes a smile on his face, and follows.

He rounds the corner just in time to see Rhiannon doing some crazy flip off the diving board, whooping loudly and earning applause from Jodie and Gray who are treading water in the deep end and watching.

“Good form!” Jodie calls out.

“Judges say 9.5,” adds River from where she’s sprawled out tanning on a deck chair.

Gray doesn’t say anything, having spotted Ianto coming around the side of the house, and is instead swimming to the edge of the pool to haul himself out.

Any other day but today, Ianto would truly be able to appreciate the sight it makes, Gray climbing out of the pool with water sluicing off of him, revealing a muscled torso complete with deep cut vee at the hips all shimmering enticingly in the sun. His wet short swim trunks cling to his legs as well, which are just as appealing as the rest of him, but all Ianto can think is 'I’m not supposed to be here. I’m supposed to be on a rooftop with Lisa.'

Gray slicks his hair back with a hand and grins wolfishly at Ianto as he approaches.

“Well, hello gorgeous,” he drawls when he’s standing well within Ianto’s personal space. Ianto smiles weakly at him, already looking around automatically for an irate Jack, but Jack is just laying in the deck chair beside River’s and ignoring them entirely.

“Hi Gray,” Ianto says. “Rhi hasn’t broken anything with her acrobatics yet I see.”

“Nah, she’s fine,” Gray grins. “I’m more worried about you breaking my heart looking as good as you do.”

Ianto groans at the terrible line, but it does get a more genuine smile out of him.

“You know, it is shocking that you ever actually manage to get laid using lines like that,” he says, shoving at Gray’s wet chest to get him to move a bit so that Ianto can circle around him.

“They’re working on you, aren’t they?” Gray asks, trailing behind Ianto as he tries to walk by.

“What on Earth would make you think that?” Ianto returns, arching an eyebrow.

“You keep coming around, don’t you?” Gray grins and grabs Ianto’s shoulders to stop his progress, stepping up behind him until Ianto can feel the wet heat of Gray’s body radiating out against his back. “Come on, sweetheart; it’s okay to admit you want me.”

Ianto turns in the grip until he is nearly nose-to-nose with Gray who is still grinning like an idiot, clearly enjoying the game.

“Ah, how silly of me! All this time I’ve been thinking I’m coming here for my boyfriend, but clearly it’s because I’m desperately in love with you, is that it?”

“That sounds about right, though you forgot the part about how much you want to ravish me,” Gray smirks, bumping his nose against Ianto’s. Ianto can’t see Jack, who is sitting behind him still, but apparently the boy is mad enough to not come to Ianto’s rescue. That’s alright though, because Ianto isn’t the damsel in distress type.

“Hmm, how does that part go?” Ianto hums contemplatively before his tone turns sarcastic and dry. “Oh yes. I want you, I need you, oh baby, oh baby. Something like that, right?”

“Yep, though enthusiasm goes a long way in my book,” Gray teases. He’s reaching out to try and grab Ianto around the waist, eyes focused over his shoulder where Ianto knows Jack is set up. “You know, Jack doesn’t seem to care that you’re getting ready to run off with me.”

“Your brother might be a little mad at me at the moment,” Ianto admits. “You may actually be doing him a favour by taking me off his hands.”

“Are you asking me to put you in my hands?”

“No, definitely not,” Ianto says quickly, stepping back blindly as Gray gives him a dangerous smirk and reaches out again.

“No hands? That’s alright, I’m good with my mouth too.”

Gray’s got him backed up to nearly the edge of the pool now, and while Ianto knows he could just laugh it off at any moment and Gray would grin and let him go, he also thinks there might be a better way to settle this.

He lets Gray stalk up to him this time, even reaching up to grab onto Gray’s arm, before sidestepping quickly and using a move Johnny taught him to pin Gray’s arm behind his back. He’s now got the other boy neatly stuck, toes edging over the pool’s edge, and all it would take is one quick push to send Gray back into the water. Ianto can’t help but grin a little smugly, because on what is fast becoming an exceptionally shitty day, he’s going to take any wins he can.

“Gray?” Ianto says, voice smug as he whispers in Gray’s ear. “Give it up before I’m forced to push you back in the pool to cool off.”

“Try it, sweetheart,” Gray smirks. “I’m happy to take you with me.”

It is only then that Ianto realises his mistake. In stepping closer to Gray to whisper the threat he’d gotten too close to the pinned hand, which is now clutching a handful of his shirt. He considers for a moment and decides Gray really would take him into the water. In a heartbeat.

“Damn it,” he curses, letting go of Gray, though there is no real anger on his face. When Gray releases the shirt to turn, Ianto skips backward quickly, something about the evil little gleam in Gray’s eye telling him he’s not safe from the pool if he stays too close.

“On second thought, I’m just going to go sit with your sister,” he says hastily.

Gray laughs and lets him go, though he smacks Ianto on the arse when he walks past.

“Mate, not cool!” Rhiannon shouts, though she doesn’t seem inordinately concerned, as she’s trying to climb on top of a lilo, which keeps upending on her.

Ianto just rolls his eyes and goes to sit with River and Jack. The moment he settles down next to them though, getting a smile in greeting from River, Jack stands up.

“I’m gonna go see if dad needs help with the barbecue,” he mutters, stalking off without giving Ianto a second glance.

Ianto sighs heavily, but there is nothing he can do about it now. If Jack wants to be pissed, he can be pissed. Ianto is just trying to survive the day; that’s all he has the energy for.

“You boys in a fight or something?” River asks, looking at Ianto like she’s hoping he’ll have good gossip to spill. It reminds him a bit of Tosh, that look, which makes him feel all at once better and worse.

“No, he’s just in a mood.” Ianto sighs. “I think he’s mad I wouldn’t go to his room with him when I got here.”

It’s technically almost true, and certainly sounds like something Jack the Boyfriend would want, so Ianto’s going with it.

River laughs loudly at that, sinking back in her chair again. “Poor baby, having to go a whole afternoon without sex.”

“Yeah, well, if he’s gonna be an arsehole about it, it’ll be longer than that,” Ianto says without any real accusation, earning himself another laugh.

“It’s probably my fault anyway, though,” he adds a moment later, not wanting to cast Jack in an undeserved bad light. “I think I kinda snapped at him about it. I’m just on edge with my family here.”

That, too, is a partial truth, and he’s a little surprised at how easy it is to share even those things with River. He doesn’t open himself up easily or often, but the Harknesses have a way of worming themselves under your skin with just a smile.

“Don’t worry about it,” River says, waving off Ianto’s concern. “He’ll be fine. Just let him pout for a while.”

Ianto hums vaguely and closes his eyes. Normally he wouldn’t think of laying out in the sun like this, but at the moment, he doesn’t have the will to do much else. Lying here, nothing is expected of him. River is sunning next to him in companionable silence; Jodie, Rhiannon and Gray are still splashing in the pool; and he can hear the vague sound of voices and laughter drifting over from where the parents are gathered on a raised deck a little ways away. If he wasn’t so wrapped in melancholy, it would probably even be nice.

He’s almost drifting off, all the warmth of the sun and his exhaustion from this morning’s crying all combining to make him feel sleepy, when he hears one clear laugh breaking across the lawn. He’s not sure what Jack is laughing at, but it’s his genuine one, the one Ianto likes best. It makes Ianto smile, and he thinks he’s glad that Jack’s day hasn’t been ruined by his messed up baggage.

\-----

Ianto doesn’t end up actually sleeping, but the rest of the day seems to pass in a hazy dream-like blur anyway.

Eventually the others leave the pool, and they all congregate on the deck to eat grilled burgers, veggie and meat kebabs, and grilled vegetables. The adults laugh and trade stories about barbecues back in the day, while the younger generation groans and complains about the nostalgia. Ianto sits quietly and tries to smile, tries not to notice the way Jack has made sure not to sit next to him or look at him at all.

Later Franklin invites Ifan to go out to the front of the house to take a look at the Aston Martin, and Ifan agrees happily - face a little red with the third beer he’s drunk. Franklin isn’t much better off, and Ianto thinks idly that he hopes they don’t screw anything up poking around the engine.

Glenda and Elizabeth have rekindled their old kinship as predicted, and they are chatting about just about everything under the sun, from book clubs to slow-cooker recipes. Glenda keeps laughing and looks so much more at ease than she did when they arrived which Ianto is happy for.

Rhiannon and Jodie have even formed a camaraderie. Gray talks them into a game of badminton and they drag River along with them. Jack stares at Ianto across the deck table for a minute, eyes still angry though maybe if Ianto wasn’t feeling his own hurt so acutely, he’d be able to detect some hurt there too. Eventually Jack just huffs as if the whole situation disgusts him and stalks off to the lawn too, leaving Ianto alone once more.

The sun is just starting to go down, sunset trying to compete with the stars appearing, but Ianto just watches it as if from behind thick and cloudy glass. When the last sliver of sun is just barely hanging on to the horizon, Ianto stands slowly and walks into the house, no longer able to hold onto the mask. 

He walks into the house, through the study and into the hallway, finding a small bathroom to his immediate left. He closes himself inside avoiding the mirror and his own eyes. He just hurts, and he wants to go home and curl up in bed and cry some more, not sit here and smile and pretend like his life is fine and he’s moving past Lisa. He’s not though, not like everyone thinks. He’s still feeling stuck, waiting, and it sucks. He promises himself just ten minutes again and sinks down onto the floor, leaning against the sink and letting the tears come.

He’s not sure how long he’s been crying, probably longer than ten minutes considering how much he’d failed at keeping that promise to himself this morning, when there is a quiet knock.

“Ianto?”

It’s River’s voice, and he sucks in a deep breath and swipes at his cheeks hurriedly.

“I’ll be out in a minute!” he calls, hoping she can’t hear the scratchiness in his voice.

She goes quiet outside the door for a long minute. “Okay, do you need anything?”

“No, I’m fine,” he replies and has to stop himself from laughing in despair at how completely untrue it is.

“Okay,” she says again hesitantly. “Let me know if you need me.”

He makes a sound of agreement and stands to splash some water on his face to start trying to repair the damage. One look in the mirror and he knows it’s probably futile. His skin is blotchy, and his eyes are red and swollen, making it glaringly obvious he’s been crying. He only hopes that the darkness outside will shadow him enough to make it unnoticeable, and that maybe the signs will have faded some by the time the film is over.

He’s leaning his forehead against the coolness of the mirror, trying to compose his insides since his outsides are a lost cause, when there is a louder, more insistent knock at the door.

“Open the door, Ianto.”

It’s Jack; of course it’s Jack. Who else would arrive just when Ianto feels his absolute weakest?

Still, it’ll take less energy to let Jack in and allow him to mock than it will to convince him to go away, so Ianto opens the door.

Jack looks furious and as if he’s just itching for a fight, but when he takes in Ianto’s face he visibly stills, staring until the fight has drained out of him.

“What the fuck, Ianto?” he asks, but his voice is gentler now. He moves into the bathroom and closes the door behind him.

“I’m fine,” Ianto repeats. “Just, ah, had something in my eye.”

“What? A fucking tree branch?” Jack asks, reaching out as if to touch Ianto’s face. He pauses, just like he always has when he catches himself reaching for Ianto, but then, much to Ianto’s surprise, he murmurs ‘Fuck it’ and reaches for him anyway.

He cups Ianto’s cheeks between his palms, tilting Ianto’s face up to the light so he can better assess.

“Shit Ianto, what the hell happened to make you so upset?”

“I just… it’s been a bad day,” Ianto admits, choking on a self-deprecating laugh. “It’s just been a really bad day.”

Jack’s thumbs are stroking over his cheekbones, fingers cool and gentle, and Ianto finds himself pressing into the touch against his will. He lets his eyes slip closed and doesn’t even fight it when Jack pulls him in closer. It is finally too much, the dam spilling over, and Ianto just curls into Jack’s neck and lets himself cry.

“Shhh,” Jack is murmuring soothingly, one hand rubbing at Ianto’s back as the other cups the back of his head and holds him in tight. “Jesus, why wouldn’t you just talk to me? If you were feeling this bad I could have made excuses and sent you home.”

“Never would have worked,” Ianto mumbles, and it’s true. Franklin and Elizabeth may have bought any story Jack constructed, but Glenda would have never let it go.

“Still, I would have tried.”

Ianto has no response for that, so he just lets himself rest, sobs slowing to a quiet hiccup.

“Is this about Lisa?” Jack asks a minute later and Ianto stiffens immediately.

“Hey, no, it’s fine,” Jack adds hurriedly, holding tighter when it seems Ianto might pull away. “We don’t have to talk about it. Just… we can you know? If you want to?”

“Why are you being so nice to me?” Ianto asks, voice muffled from where he’s still pressed into Jack’s neck (and thank goodness Jack relocated his shirt at some point in the evening, or this whole thing would have been a whole new level of awkward).

“Honestly?” Jack asks, and laughs a little. “It apparently, kinda, kills me a bit to see you crying, which is really fucking annoying. Also I’m pretty sure River thinks I’m like, emotionally abusing you or something, ‘cause she damn near bit my head off out on the lawn. Said I was being an arse, and if I didn’t fix it, she’d make sure I hurt twice as much as you ever had.”

“She’s not really that scary,” Ianto mumbles into Jack’s neck, smiling a little. He concentrates on the picture of River yelling up at Jack on the lawn instead of letting himself dwell on ‘It kills me to see you cry.’ He’s not ready to think about that, about how it makes them more friends than simply allies.

“What happened to you?” Jack asks incredulously, pushing Ianto back so he can grin at him. “Because anyone who thinks River is anything less than crazy-scary has seen some very messed up shit.”

 _What hasn’t happened to me_ , Ianto thinks, his mind casting back to his childhood and his father. Ianto shrugs, but he’s smiling again, and for the first time all day, it feels completely honest. “Does that buy me, like, street cred or something?”

Jack laughs again, the real one that makes Ianto feel warm inside, and ruffles Ianto’s hair fondly. Ianto doesn’t even fight it, because it’s already a lost cause.

“Oh definitely,” Jack says, mock serious. “You are so badass to me now.”

“Good,” Ianto says, grinning and stepping fully out of Jack’s embrace, finally feeling strong enough to stand on his own again. “Because I totally have the boots for that.”

“I bet you do,” Jack teases and opens the bathroom door while reaching for his hand.

When their fingers intertwine and Jack tugs him along back outside, Ianto realises it’s the first time they’ve really held hands like this, even though they’ve been playing boyfriends for weeks.

“Fair warning, I’m gonna make you cuddle with me,” Jack tells him as they make their way across the dark lawn and towards the silhouettes of their family setting up blankets between a big white screen and a projector that is connected to a long extension lead. “River was deadly serious about her threats, and I’m a little afraid that anything less and I won’t be waking up tomorrow.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll help you put on a good show,” Ianto replies. It’s the least he can do after Jack actually acted like a human being to him back there.

“Not too good of a show though, Mr. Badass,” Jack teases. “It wouldn’t do me any good to appease River just to get your dad pissed at me.”

“Hmm, true.”

Ianto is still laughing when they reach the group.

River gives him one long look, taking in their hands still tangled together. Ianto leans into Jack a little more, to make it look good, and when Jack sees his sister’s gaze, he presses a hasty kiss to Ianto’s hair as if to add a bit of flair of his own to the show. It seems to satisfy her at least, because she smiles at them both and gives herself a pleased little nod before turning back to help Jodie spread out a blanket.

Jack hands Ianto another blanket a moment later and they finally stop holding hands so that they can spread it out on the ground. Jack immediately plonks himself down in the middle and reaches for Ianto. It seems he was serious about the cuddling. River is still shooting them looks every once in a while, and Ianto can’t exactly balk at cuddling with his boyfriend, so he just sighs quietly and lets himself be pulled down.

Once he’s settled in and situated between Jack’s legs, leaning back against his chest, he has to grudgingly admit that it isn’t that bad. When Jack curls an arm over his stomach, holding him in close, he accepts that it might even be kind of nice. It’s been a really long time since he’s been held.

The two of them sit quiet amidst the chatter of their families as everyone waits for the film to start. At some point Jack tips his head to rest it against Ianto’s, and Ianto - without thought - brings up a hand of his own to lay over the top of the one Jack has resting against his stomach, letting their fingers tangle again.

He is feeling nearly sleepy again with the warmth and security of being cradled this way, making him feel safe even if it is under false pretenses, when ‘The Power of Love’ playing out of the speakers causes him to wake up more.

Through his back, he can feel the vibrations of Jack humming along to the song as Marty McFly leaves Doc Brown’s house and heads towards school. Then Jack begins to sing the lyrics lowly into his ear causing a warm feeling to settle in his chest, “The power of love is a curious thing, make a one man weep, make another man sing. Change a hawk to a little white dove, more than a feeling, that's the power of love.”

Ianto’s eyes drift over the group, taking in River and Jodie cuddled against each other, and his mum curled up into his dad’s side. Franklin and Elizabeth are lounging back against pillows with Elizabeth in between Franklin’s legs, propped up enough just to see. Rhiannon is sat with her legs crossed, hugging her knees towards her chest. Gray is leaning back on his elbows next to them, and when he catches Ianto looking, he winks. Ianto winks back, smiling at the grin it earns him, and then snuggles back into Jack’s embrace to watch the film, hearing the end of the song being crooned into his ear. “That's the power of love. You feel the power of love. You feel the power of love. Feel the power of love.”

They’re nearly half an hour into it when Gray wolf whistles.

“Come on now River, there are children present!” he teases, and River flips him off even as she dislodges herself from where she was practically attached to Jodie’s face.

“Oh leave her be, Gray,” Elizabeth says gently. “There’s nothing wrong with kissing under the stars, or while watching a movie.”

She punctuates her words by leaning over to kiss her husband, which of course, makes all her kids groan. Not to be outdone, Ifan plants one on Glenda too, and Rhiannon covers her eyes, though it just makes Ianto smile.

“Come on now, boys,” Gray teases a second later. “Aren’t you gonna give us poor single folk a show, too?”

Ianto is glad for the darkness hiding the red in his cheeks, as he suddenly seems to be much more aware of just how closely he and Jack are snuggled up.

“Yeah, Jack, plant one on him!” River crows.

“Kiss, kiss, kiss,” Rhiannon starts to chant, grinning a goofy grin at Ianto and soon everyone (except his father, who is looking a little awkward) takes up the chant.

“Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!”

“What’d you say, tiger? Do we give the people what they want?” Jack whispers quietly into his ear.

Ianto shrugs but can’t help but tilt his head back against Jack’s shoulder to look at his face. Jack takes it as invitation enough and leans in to press his mouth against Ianto’s.

It is different again, than all their other kisses so far. There is no hesitance, no show. It is just warmth, Jack’s mouth slightly damp against his own as if he’d licked his lips before moving in. Ianto allows his eyes to slip shut and lets himself fall into it, choosing not to think for once today, and the surrender is intoxicating.

It is still relatively chaste at first, just a slide of lips against lips, gentle and comforting, and just as safe a feeling as the embrace. After a minute though, Jack’s tongue teases along the seam of Ianto’s lips, and Ianto opens up underneath him with a quiet catch of breath. When Jack’s tongue strokes softly into his mouth, running along his own and then licking up against his soft palate and behind his teeth before repeating its motion, Ianto feels it like fireworks in his bloodstream.

When he presses back into it, meeting Jack’s tongue stroke for stroke, the arm around his waist tightens and pulls him in more firmly, his back to Jack’s chest. Jack nips gently at his lower lip before soothing it with his tongue again. He sucks it softly into his mouth, and Ianto tilts his head to try and get more, closer, anything. Jack just keeps kissing him, firm and steadying, and Ianto feels like all of his nerve endings are exploding into starbursts from the intensity of it all.

Eventually, the angle becomes too awkward, and they break apart. Ianto knows he’s breath heavy, but Jack definitely is too, so he’s not too bothered. No one is watching them anymore, Ianto can see when he has to tear his eyes from Jack’s face to untwist his neck. However, he can see little smiles on everyone’s faces (except his father’s but he doesn’t seem to put-out), which he’s pretty sure means they were all well aware of the show.

“Good thing you finally came up for air,” Gray leans in to whisper a moment later. “Or you’d have missed the best parts of the film.”

Ianto feels his cheeks heat again, and it must show even in the dark, because Gray’s grin widens. He doesn’t say anything else though, just leans back on his elbows and turns his gaze back to the screen.

Ianto tries to settle back himself, but is feeling entirely too self-conscious. After a few seconds of awkward shifting, Jack leans in a bit more and whispers in his ear again, “Relax, Ianto. You don’t need to think so hard, just enjoy the film.”

He tugs Ianto back against him, and tightens the grip on his hand that Ianto didn’t even realise he was still holding, and finally Ianto relaxes. As the film continues on, Jack tilts his head to rest atop Ianto’s once more, and Ianto smiles up at the sky. They may just be pretending, but sometimes, Ianto thinks, the real world is overrated anyway.

When he gets home, hours later, he pulls out his phone and crosses #47 off his bucket list.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks as always to my cheerleader temporalsilence and my beta princessoftheworlds :)
> 
> so, ianto has never really had the time to grieve over losing lisa and his first love. poor jack just wanted to comfort him but ianto kept shutting him out :(


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Monday again which means another dance lesson with Jack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm posting this a day early because it's temporalsilence's birthday and i already finished chapter 12 for her haha.
> 
> love you, cait :)

By the time Ianto finds himself back at the dance studio with Jack the following Monday, he is feeling much more himself again.

It hadn’t been fun, breaking down like that, but he’d never really let himself cry about Lisa’s leaving before and in hindsight it had been cathartic to let himself feel the grief of it. Allowing himself to fall apart hasn’t made the pain disappear, but it has actually made it feel more bearable and maybe a little less intense. And it’s all thanks to Jack, who somehow unexpectedly was exactly what Ianto needed in those moments. _Just relax and enjoy the show_. Ianto’s trying very hard to make that his new mantra for the summer.

He and Jack haven’t talked about the kiss, which is easy enough to brush off as part of the act, or about Ianto’s breakdown since that night, but Ianto feels like something more has shifted once again between them. They wear less armour in their interactions with each other (a phone call that had started as a brief confirmation that they were still on for class Monday that somehow morphed into a three hour conversation full of teasing, petty jibes, and lots of laughter). Ianto feels like finally, maybe, he has a better handle on what they are, that they are finally maybe friends.

He’s more okay with that than he ever would have expected to be.

Of course, none of this means that Jack is any more happy to be here, in this too-small, too-hot dance studio, than he was last week. In fact, if you ask Ianto, he’s in even more of a foul mood. Ianto isn’t sure exactly why because it definitely seems like it’s about more than just dance class. Jack has been scowling and snapping even more than usual ever since he picked Ianto up, and frankly, Ianto’s getting a little tired of it.

Yes, it’s hot. Yes, he can see how it isn’t even close to Jack’s idea of the perfect Monday night. And yes, he can even be sympathetic to the fact that it is hard for Jack to be doing something he’s struggling with, because Ianto knows how hard it is to not always be the best. But does Jack really have to take all of that out on him?

It’s not like it’s his fault they are stuck in this stuffy room, with the mirrored wall only reflecting the sunlight back against them all again and causing the heat to rise to near unbearable levels. Ianto’s suffering from it too, they all are, but none of them are bitching quite as loudly as Jack. (Okay, there was one guy who was, but his wife gave up and dragged him out nearly twenty minutes ago, which is unfortunately not an option for Ianto).

The heat is awful though, and in fact, it is so humid that even Ianto has had to concede some defeat and is down to his dark trousers, white button up undone halfway down his chest, and the sleeves rolled up and pushed back, suspenders hanging limply from his waist. He’s gotten a few glares because even though he feels disheveled, he’s pretty sure, at least a couple of the guys who are sweating like pigs, still think he looks relatively human.

Jack keeps glaring at him too, but Ianto’s pretty sure it’s got nothing to do with how he looks. After all, Jack is still looking mostly put together himself. He’s insisted on wearing shorts, even though Ianto tried to tell him that you should wear dance attire to dance class, so the only concession he’s had to make is unbuttoning the short sleeved blue linen shirt nearly all the way down. Ianto has most definitely not been watching the little beads of sweat roll down Jack’s neck and all the way down into the deep vee cut of his undershirt instead of paying attention to Jack bitching and moaning. Definitely not.

Speaking of bitching and moaning though, it’s also not Ianto’s fault that they are doing foxtrot this week, and Jack is having trouble adjusting to ‘slow, slow, quick, quick’ after having spent all of last week on ‘one, two, three.’

It’s not even his fault that Jack keeps ruining their form and stepping on Ianto’s feet or pulling Ianto onto his own. He’s offered to let Jack try following, he’s offered to let Jack try the steps on his own or with another partner, he’s even (regrettably) offered to call Kieran over to let Jack lead someone used to teaching, which had earned him one hell of an epic bitch face - and Ianto Jones knows his bitch faces, so that’s saying something.

Jack is just not in the mood to be appeased though and seems more content to stew than to be cheered up. He’s just feeling grouchy apparently, and not even Ianto’s jokes and insults about their fellow classmates can get so much as a smile out of him.

“Damn it, Ianto!”

Jack has just tripped over Ianto’s feet for the fourth time in the last minute, but Jack isn’t leading properly so how is it Ianto’s fault that he has no idea where he’s expected to move?

“Don’t blame your clumsiness on me,” he hisses. “I’m not the one trying to strong-arm us around the room. Jesus, loosen up a little will you? Shoving me around isn’t actually leading, you know.”

“You’re the one who told me to hold my frame rigid,” Jack snaps back, pushing against where he is holding Ianto’s hand and waist with his arms tensed and tight as if to prove a point.

“That doesn’t mean you just push me around the room in circles,” Ianto seethes. “It’s a fluid rigidity, not just tensing and pushing when you want me to turn and hoping I catch on!”

“Now you’re not even making sense, tiger,” Jack sneers back. “You can’t be loose and tense at the same time.”

“Yes, you can, and if you weren’t so fucking stubborn, you’d let Kieran show you.”

“No thanks, I don’t really think I feel like spending any more time with your precious Kieran than I have to,” Jack scoffs, shooting a particularly poisonous glare across the room at the instructor, who is trying to help a lesbian couple with their heel leads. Oh, what Ianto would give to be dancing well enough to work on heel leads. Hell, he’d settle for any kind of leads right now.

“Fine!” he hisses back to Jack, rolling his eyes at how stubborn he’s being. “But at least learn to count your beats correctly. It only goes to four, even you should be able to manage that.”

He returns the glare he gets for the comment, and pushes back against Jack’s shoulder where his hand is resting lightly when Jack gives him another shove.

“I’m not the one who can’t count,” Jack insists. “It’s one, two, three, Ianto.”

“No, you moron, it’s four beats. Two slow, two quick. We’re not fucking waltzing, you know.”

“Actually I don’t know, because I’m not the one who spent the last seventeen years planning a dream wedding complete with lame dancing!”

“Well, you also clearly weren’t the one listening the whole first half hour of class, because Jenny counted out the beat at least a hundred times!”

Jack scowls, face red from heat and frustration, and drops his hand from Ianto’s waist before ripping his other one away from where Ianto is still holding it.

“Maybe that’s because I was too busy thinking about how completely stupid it is that I’m standing here, next to you of all people, having to listen to a failed dancer try to teach me anything and watching you heart-eye Mr. Tall, Dark and Handsome, when I could be out somewhere getting my dick sucked.”

“Do you have to be so fucking crude? And I’m not the one who needs the lessons. You said it yourself; no one here is reporting back to your mum. I could take off right now and leave you to it all alone, and then where would you be?”

“Clearly still not getting laid,” Jack grumps.

Ianto throws up his hands in disgust, stomping off the dance floor to lean against one of the exposed brick walls at the side of the room. He needs to cool off, figuratively and literally, or he’s going to say something he regrets, because he is letting Jack’s grumpiness get under his skin. It’s just that after finally deciding they might actually be friends, Ianto finds that he’s starting to hate it when their insults and arguments begin leaning toward the mean instead of teasing. He doesn’t want to be mean to Jack, not really - not anymore. So he just needs a minute to breathe.

Of course Jack isn’t going to give him the space though, stalking after him with his eyes snapping hotter than the rays of the dying sun spilling over him as he stomps past the windows.

“Don’t walk away from me,” he growls. “You’re being a bitch.”

“I’m being a bitch? Jack, there are plenty of mirrors; go ahead and have a look in one, I’ll wait.”

“Ha-fucking-ha, you’re hilarious.”

“I’m right,” Ianto insists. “I don’t know what is going on with you, but you have been in a mood ever since I got in your car, and I’m getting tired of it.”

“What’s ‘going on’ with me is that I have you for a dance partner, and you suck,” Jack seethes, nostrils flaring in irritation. “Do you know how fucking frustrating it is to dance with you? You don’t move when I want you to move, and you don’t seem to get any of my signals about where to go next. What the hell am I supposed to do? I bet with anyone else I’d dance just fine!”

“I’m trying here,” Ianto snaps. “I know it isn’t easy, and I know you’re frustrated, but I can’t follow when you won’t lead! And you said you didn’t want to dance with anyone else when I offered!”

“I don’t want to dance with anyone else; I want you to fucking stop lecturing me about frame and counts because I’m leading just fine, thanks. It’s you who can’t seem to follow properly.” Jack sneers, and Ianto just rolls his eyes because Jack has to know what bullshit that is.

“So I’m the whole problem here, then, huh?” Ianto asks, voice heavy with sarcasm. “I suppose I just have no idea how to follow, or dance, or even fucking exist ,and your whole life would be a hell of a lot better if I just disappeared.”

“Wow, Jones, seems we finally agree about something. You took the words right out of my mouth.”

It is stupid, Ianto knows, to let it get to him. He knows Jack is in a bad mood, knows Jack’s on the defensive because in this room Ianto has the upper hand just by luck of experience and skill, knows that Jack walked into the room with something else already bothering him, though Ianto can’t for the life of him figure out what.

Ianto even knows, logically, that Jack doesn’t mean it, doesn’t really wish Ianto would just disappear, because they are friends now, damn it. But it hurts, and it makes him spitting mad, and both of those things make his stupid body want to cry, which is the very last thing he wants to do in this situation. He squeezes his eyes shut tight, fists his hands at his sides and presses them back against the cool roughness of the brick behind him, anchoring himself to that sensation.

Jack, to his credit, seems to recognise immediately that he has overstepped the line between their usual barbed teasing and plain meanness.

“Ianto,” he tries, voice apologetic but still full of frustration, as if, even now, he can’t let go of whatever is bothering him.

“Don’t,” Ianto says, putting up a hand to halt him when Jack tries to step in closer. “Just… I’m going to go get a drink, and when I come back, we’ll go back out on the dance floor to try again and things will be fine. But just… just don’t.”

Jack has a hand halfway across the space between them still, hanging there mid-reach, and his eyes are still just a conflict of emotions. But Ianto’s got his own emotions to deal with, cannot worry about Jack’s too right this second, so he just pushes off the wall and walks away.

Out in the hallway it is a little cooler, thank goodness, and he does in fact stop at the drinking fountain to gulp down some lukewarm metallic tasting water. That isn’t quite enough time though, he’s not quite ready to go back in and play nice (or as nice as he and Jack are ever capable of playing that is) so he walks further down the hall and pushes into the toilets.

He goes right to the sinks, turns the tap until the water is running icy cold, and then ducks his head under it and lets the coolness numb away his anger. When he pulls back, little rivulets of water stream down his face and the back of his neck, soaking into the white of his shirt and turning it partly translucent, but he can’t make himself care too much.

Ianto two years ago would have blanched at the way his skin is visible, the peachy tone clearly showing through the now-damp material, but Ianto has become much more comfortable with himself. Hell, if he can get practically naked with his mortal enemy (mortal friend?), he can certainly walk into a room full of people he’ll never see again once this is all over with a tiny bit of skin on display.

He runs a hand through his hair, which is plastered limply against his forehead, pushing it back until it is standing up in messy spikes, dark with sweat and water. That would also normally bug him, but at this point, he’ll be happy just getting through the rest of this lesson without resorting to violence, so his hair will just have to take the hit. He thinks briefly about gorgeous Kieran and his smile and is a little disappointed to be walking back in looking such a mess, but it isn’t worth spending the time to try and make himself presentable. He’s almost certain that between the heat and the fact that he has zero products with him, it would be pretty much a lost cause anyway.

One more deep breath, a stern look at himself in the mirror to remind himself that he has just decided Jack is his friend so he can’t very well treat him as any less, and then he pushes off the porcelain and walks back out into the hall, stride sure and confident once more.

When he walks back into the dance room, he finds that the class has gathered in a circle again, and Jenny and Kieran are demonstrating something in the middle of the group.

A little abashed at having just disappeared in the middle of the lesson, Ianto slinks up to the outskirts of the circle. As luck would have it, Jack is - of course - right there, looking at him like he kind of wants to throttle Ianto and beg for forgiveness all at the same time. He catches Ianto’s eyes and jerks his head to signal Ianto over, stepping to the side to make Ianto a space in the circle.

“Thanks,” Ianto murmurs and ignores the once over Jack is now giving him, taking in his even more rumpled appearance.

“New look, tiger?” he asks, voice casual, but there is a question there too, Ianto can tell. It says ‘Are we okay now?’

Ianto arches an eyebrow at him and gives him a smirk in return, “What, haven’t you heard? Bathroom chic is all the rage this season.”

What he means is ‘Yeah, we’re okay now.’

Jack smiles more genuinely, nudges his shoulder in that familiar way that has been missing all evening. “Oh, of course, silly me.”

Ianto doesn’t say anything more, just trains his eyes on their instructors determined to not get called out again, but can’t help nudging back just once.

Despite his hope of remaining unnoticed, the fates are not on Ianto’s side this evening, because not even a minute later, Kieran is pulling him forward into the centre of the circle.

“Ianto, will you help me demonstrate?”

Ianto can see that Jenny has pulled one of the women dancers into the centre too, and while he appreciates their commitment to teaching same-gender partners to dance, do they really need to use him as an example, today of all days?

“Um…”

“You are one of my best students here,” Kieran whispers, and even though Ianto knows Jack didn’t hear it, he can’t help but smirk triumphantly over at where Jack is standing, arms crossed tightly and looking grouchy again.

“Okay, sure,” Ianto says, because, oh, he is going to show Jack just how well he can dance.

“If you’d like, you may lead,” Kieran says. “But I know some of the men are having trouble learning to follow, perhaps watching you succeed would help their confidence?”

“Following is fine,” Ianto agress, glad he refrained from saying ‘I’d follow you anywhere’ when Kieran flashed that damn smile again.

He wouldn’t mean it anyway, because as cute as Kieran is and as great as that smile looks, Ianto isn’t actually crushing too hard. He mostly just can’t help but get a little flustered when a gorgeous guy compliments him, and really, who could blame him for that?

“Excellent,” Kieran says,and nods to one of their assistants who is over by the stereo.

The music starts up, and Ianto moves easily into position, one hand resting light but firm on Kieran’s shoulder, the other held in Kieran’s own, while Kieran’s second hand settles heavy and warm at his waist.

“And slow slow quick quick,” Jenny is calling out, and they begin to dance.

Dancing with Kieran is nothing like dancing with Jack, mostly because they are actually managing to move for more than just two steps in a row. It is a little thrilling, being guided around the open space of the circle nearly effortlessly. It’s easy to read all the signals Kieran puts into his frame, easy to know when to turn, when to step out, when to slide. Still, when Ianto catches Jack’s eye on one of their circles around, he can’t help but think if only they could get the technicalities down, Jack would be a much better partner than Kieran.

He can’t say exactly why he thinks so, because it isn’t some romantic vision of dancing with a man he’s (pretend) dating or any such nonsense. It is, perhaps, because he knows the give and take of the verbal dance he and Jack do with each other daily now, and no matter who is leading and who is following, they move through it flawlessly.

Or maybe it is because he sees a fire burning behind Jack’s eyes sometimes, knows that Jack is passionate about being the very best he can be, knows that Jack is just as determined to never be overlooked or passed by as Ianto is. Maybe it is just because he has, in fact, seen Jack dance, and knows that when he gets moving fluidly, he is - was even back when Ianto hated him - a thing of beauty to behold.

Ianto wishes for just another second, stepping past and back, twirling fast and then sliding slowly, that they were the kind of friends who could say those things to each other. That he could tell Jack he sees those things in him, sees the passion and potential and talent. But of course he can’t because they still aren’t nice to each other, at least not so directly.

This truth is made even more apparent in the next minute, because as they dance by again, Jack’s scowl has turned into a full-on glare, though Ianto thinks for a moment it might be aimed at Kieran instead of at him. Which is ridiculous, because why on Earth would Jack be glaring at their teacher when Ianto is so clearly proving himself superior right here, practically begging for Jack to scowl at him with every perfect step and turn.

“He does not like watching us dance together,” Kieran whispers into Ianto’s ear, a hint of laughter undercutting his words.

“What?” Ianto asks, startled from where he’s been trying to catch another glimpse of Jack, and looking wide-eyed at Kieran’s amused smile.

“Your boy who is not your boy,” Kieran clarifies. “He is most unhappy about being sidelined like this.”

“Oh, well yeah,” Ianto agrees. “He likes being the centre of attention.”

“I think he would like very much to be the centre of your attention,” Kieran teases, and Ianto’s cheeks heat up to an even brighter red than the heat and movement has already coloured them.

“No,” he says firmly. “Sorry Kieran, you may be good at teaching people to dance but you’re no good at reading them. He can hardly stand me some days, believe me.”

“There is a fine line between hate and love though, isn’t there?” Kieran asks. “Both are passionate emotions that may be mistaken for each other at first glance.”

“Well, believe me, we’ve more than first glanced, and it is definitely not love,” Ianto confirms.

Kieran gives him a little humouring smirk and twirls him quick and dramatic before pulling Ianto in a little closer than before.

“If that is so, then why is he looking at me as if he would very much like to mount my head on a pole?”

Ianto chances another glance in Jack’s direction, and he does in fact seem to be even angrier than before. He is shooting daggers at them with his eyes, lip half curled in a snarl, and when Kieran lets his hand drift a little lower on Ianto’s back, he takes a half-step forward into the circle before he stops himself.

Which is all very… strange.

But Ianto knows there is an explanation for it, because Jack’s acted like this around Gray before too - back when they weren’t even friends - and Ianto knows that wasn’t about him, at least he thinks he does. So this is just another case of misplaced anger or posturing or something. Jack simply doesn’t like that Kieran is upstaging him (which actually sounds exactly like Jack, so it isn’t even a stretch for Ianto to believe it).

Add to that his terrible temper today, and Jack’s behaviour seems like nothing more than a spoiled little boy being made he isn’t as good at everything in the world as he wants to be.

In any case, when the song ends and Kieran releases his hold on Ianto with another little bow, Jack doesn’t stop glaring at their instructor, completely ignoring Ianto who has come to stand by his side again, so there is no way that whole thing could be about him, Ianto decides.

“Trying to set him on fire with your mind, or is that just the face you make when you’ve got your next targeted hookup acquired?” he drawls.

Jack startles from his glare to look at Ianto, confused. “What? I’d never hook up with that guy!”

“Really?” Ianto asks, honestly a little curious. “Why not? He’s not bad to look at.”

Jack is scowling again, this time at Ianto. “He’s old, he’s too full of himself, and I think I saw the beginnings of a bald spot when he twirled you around using his gigantic ego for momentum.”

“You did not,” Ianto chides, amused. “You’re just mad that he’s a better dancer than you.”

“He is not!” Jack immediately rejoins, then seems to think better of that argument when Ianto holds back an honest-to-god guffaw, and so amend his words - just a little. “Okay, maybe he is, but I could be so much better than him. If I wanted.”

“Oh, really?” Ianto teases gently. “Because I’d love to see some of that, any time now. My feet are really starting to protest the abuse of your stomping on them all the time.”

Jack goes stiff and then deflates all at once.

“Whatever, so I suck at this. You think I don’t know that?”

“Hey, no,” Ianto soothes, still smiling at him but keeping the tease light. “You aren’t that bad; I don’t think people need all ten of their toes anyway, so I should be fine.”

“Oh, fuck you,” Jack says, but he’s grinning again too.

“For the record,” Ianto tells him, dragging him back to a free corner of the room and pulling his arms back up into dance position. “I think you could be a great dancer, if you just let yourself feel it instead of fighting me every step of the way.”

“Yeah?” Jack asks, trying for cocky but mostly sounding like he actually needs the reassurance.

“Yeah,” Ianto confirms. “Definitely better than Kieran.”

That gets him a full on grin, Jack looking just pleased as punch, and Ianto fights the urge to do something stupid like laugh and hug him. Instead he just adds, “And we’ve still got two whole lessons left. If you just give it a chance, I bet we can turn you into Fred Astaire himself by then.”

“You are so full of shit, babe,” Jack teases, but when he starts leading the dance this time, his frame is the right mix of tension and movement, and Ianto finds that they’ve gotten through six whole steps without thinking.

“Maybe so, maybe not,” Ianto tells him. “But I definitely plan on being Ginger Rogers so the least you can do is try to keep up.”

He waits for the quip about his femininity making it a good comparison or something, after all he’s kind of left himself open on purpose just to set Jack back at ease (lead and follow he thinks, just like dancing). Jack, however, seems to have changed the steps in this particular dance, because he just smiles at Ianto and twirls him. It is not perfectly executed, in fact it’s a little stumbly, but they get all the way through it and keep moving, so Ianto doesn’t even try to hide his smile.

\-----

They manage to fake their way through the remainder of the foxtrot, and there is even a moment where they make it through a whole half of a song without messing up once, so their moods are vastly improved by the time they stumble out of the studio forty minutes later. In fact, Jack’s earlier attitude seems to have finally faded mostly to the background, leaving the boy Ianto actually doesn’t mind spending time with behind.

Jack dumps half a bottle of water over his head and spikes his hair back to match Ianto’s, saying it’ll be fun to see what Ianto’s dad thinks they’ve been doing when he drops Ianto off. Especially because he’s already got Ianto to agree to leaving the windows down on the drive home. Between water, wind and the sheen of sweat drying on their skin, Ianto is pretty sure they are going to look a little debauched by the time they get to his house.

Ianto is guzzling from the second water bottle Jack hands him, desperate for hydration after the stifling heat, when Jack’s phone chimes, signaling a new text. Ianto nearly chokes on his mouthful, because it is too reminiscent of last week. He’s already resigning himself to driving the Range Rover home alone when he sees that Jack isn’t leering or smirking or otherwise looking pleased with the message, but instead is frowning down at his phone as if it has personally offended him somehow.

“Everything okay?” Ianto asks after a minute.

“Huh?” Jack says, looking up and as if he’s pulling his mind back from some thought or other. “Oh yeah, just my mum. There’s been a huge accident on the way into your side of Cardiff apparently.”

Ianto’s stomach drops, because in his life he has lost or nearly lost too many people to ever not immediately assume the worst when someone texts or calls about an accident.

“It’s not… no-one we know was hurt right?”

Jack looks back at him, startled again at the tremor in Ianto’s voice, but seems to quickly catch on to Ianto’s worry.

“Oh god, no no, sorry,” he says hastily. “It’s just that they’re saying on the news it’s probably going to take a couple of hours to clear and get traffic moving again.”

“Oh.” Ianto sighs, voice relieved. “Um, so should I look for back roads to my house from here instead, or do you want to circle around your way and through town or what?”

“Actually, my mum wants me to bring you back to the house,” Jack says, as if he can’t quite process the words yet.

“What? Back to your house? Why?” Ianto asks. Apparently he’s not processing well either.

“Um, she says, ‘it’s late already and she doesn’t want us out on the road driving to hell and back trying to navigate all the way through Cardiff when it’s likely due to be gridlocked because everyone else will be doing the same.’”

“Your mother did not say ‘to hell and back,’” Ianto argues, rolling his eyes.

“No, she didn’t,” Jack agrees. “But she did tell me to bring you to the house.”

“Like, until it clears up?” Ianto asks, even though he knows that’s not it.

“Like until the morning,” Jack corrects. “She says she already called your mum and got the okay. Looks like you’re spending the night.”

“Oh.”

Ianto feels off kilter at the idea. Which is stupid, because Jack spent the night at his house, in his bed for goodness sake, not so long ago and they survived that, didn’t they? Besides the Harknesses have a huge house, and if Elizabeth is expecting them then she’s probably waiting up, and no-one is going to even think of suggesting that Ianto sleep in Jack’s room. Parents don’t do that, parents set up guest rooms, and set alarms to go off every hour to make sure you aren’t sneaking around, and threaten your freedom if you so much as think about sneaking in a midnight rendezvous.

So Ianto should be just fine. He’ll get to sleep in a bed that is sure to have high quality sheets, he’ll get to eat breakfast with River and Jodie and hear more about London, and maybe - if he’s lucky - he’ll even be able to convince Jack to borrow his dad’s car when they head back to Ianto’s in the morning. Ianto really wants to ride in that car (okay, he really wants to drive that car, but he’s learned to limit his expectations to things that are at least slightly possible).

Plus, Jack looks like he feels just as weird about the whole thing as Ianto does, which is oddly comforting.

“Okay, that’s fine,” Ianto says with more confidence than he feels. “If it’s okay with you?”

“Not really a choice, is it?” Jack asks, which isn’t really an answer either but it’s all he offers before turning to start walking toward the parking garage.

Ianto has to pick up his pace a bit to match Jack’s fast stride, feeling like he’s being punished somehow for the turn of events.

“I’m sorry it’s so difficult for you to share air with me, let alone let me into your home unexpectedly, but it isn’t really my fault there was an accident you know,” he huffs impatiently when they reach the car.

Jack doesn’t respond just unlocks the doors and climbs in. He isn’t taking the time to put the windows down either, and Ianto doesn’t know what that means except that perhaps the fun part of the evening is over and they are right back to the grumpy Jack that picked him up hours earlier.

“Fine, don’t talk to me.”

Jack rolls his eyes, looking very exasperated, as he backs out and navigates the turns of the car park toward the exit.

“I’m not not talking to you; I just don’t know what you want me to say.”

Ianto waits until Jack has paid the exit barrier and pulled back onto the street before speaking.

“How about ‘no Ianto, I don’t care that you’re coming over’ or ‘Gee, sorry you’re stuck with me for the night, that must suck for you?’”

“But neither of those things are true,” Jack tells him, voice still infuriatingly calm.

“Well, I’m so sorry I’m inconveniencing you,” Ianto mutters, turning to press his sweaty temple against the cool glass of the window.

“It’s not that either; god, stop putting words in my mouth!” Jack says, his facade of non-interest cracking a little.

“Then, what is it like?”

“It’s… it’s nothing; it just doesn’t matter, okay? You’re coming and staying and it’s just what’s happening. Why do you insist that I feel something about everything? Can’t it just be something that is?”

“Fine, it’s just something that is, then,” Ianto huffs, sinking back in his seat. “Sorry I bothered you by worrying about what you’re feeling.”

“Yeah, well, you don’t need to worry,” Jack mutters darkly, both hands clenched tight to the wheel. “Because I’m not going to be feeling anything about you any time soon.”

Ianto snorts a sarcastic laugh. “And here I was just thinking we were maybe starting to be friends.”

Jack doesn’t have anything to say to that apparently, because he drives in silence, though Ianto can feel tension radiating off of him in waves. Even with the strained atmosphere though, Ianto finds himself starting to drift off not long later. The dark space, the movement of the car and white noise of the road, and his own exhaustion from class all combine to put him half way to sleep.

It’s why he thinks, at first, he must be dreaming it when Jack says, “We are.”

“We are what?” Ianto mumbled sleepily, sure Jack is going to tell him he’s imagining things.

Jack looks startled, like maybe he thought Ianto was truly asleep, but he doesn’t shrug it off.

“Friends,” he says instead, then again more firmly. “We are friends.”

He looks a little uncomfortable at having made the admission, darting little looks at Ianto every few seconds and clutching the steering wheel tightly once more. Ianto is still feeling hazy enough to not give him a hard time about it though, isn’t even really thinking all that clearly, so he answers easily.

“Of course we are.”

Jack laughs, quiet but genuine, and Ianto feels pleased at having evoked the sound as his eyes drift closed again.

“Wake me up when we get there,” he murmurs, snuggling down further into the seat and pillowing his head against his discarded jacket from earlier in the evening.

“Sure thing,” Jack tells him fondly, and Ianto thinks he’s going to have to tell Jack to work on hiding that tone if he ever wants to convince anyone they aren’t friends ever again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks as always to my cheerleader temporalsilence and my beta princessoftheworlds :)
> 
> i also updated the tags because i realised i never actually added some things lol. i always planned jack to be trans, it's just not been _explicitly_ referenced because it's not really relevant to the plot right now. there has been some hints if you know what you're looking for. (i.e. ianto saying that he understands why jack is very sensitive towards anything that would imply him to be in a woman's role, but yeah).


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ianto and Jack arrive back at Jack's house for the unplanned sleepover.

“Wake up, sleepy head.”

Ianto blinks his eyes open slowly. The car has come to a stop, and for a moment, he feels disoriented in the darkness. When he looks over, he sees that Jack is smiling at him though, blue eyes shining in the dim ambient light from the car’s dashboard as the engine ticks and cools.

“Hey,” he says groggily, sitting up more fully and rubbing fists into his eyes as he tries to wake up a little more. “Sorry I fell asleep.”

“It’s fine,” Jack shrugs. “Didn’t have to argue with you about the radio stations for once.”

Ianto laughs a little, mostly because surprisingly they hardly ever actually do fight over the radio.

“C’mon, I saw a light on in the hallway when we pulled up. Pretty sure my mum is waiting for us.”

They unbuckle and climb out, and Ianto feels a little woozy on his feet as he unfolds and stands, but Jack isn’t sprinting ahead for once so it is easy to walk side by side to the front door. Ianto’s eyes can’t stop scanning over the house as they approach, because it is the first time he’s seen it in the dark without lights blazing. He’d always thought without the warmth of lighted windows, it might seem more imposing and cold, but it still looks like the same welcoming home it always has. Perhaps that has more to do with the family he now knows is inside though.

Elizabeth isn’t waiting by the door for them, or peering out the windows, as Ianto knows his own mum would have been. In fact, they have to seek her out, the living room standing lighted but empty, and end up finding her curled in an overstuffed chair in the study, just a small lamp on a side table illuminating the space around her so that she can read. Ianto recognises the book as one that his own mum had recommended to her at the barbecue and smiles to himself.

“Oh, boys!” she says, setting the book down and standing to join them once they’ve peered around the doorframe. “Good, I’m glad you’re back safe.”

“It’s not like we were at war or anything, Mum,” Jack says fondly, nevertheless bending to let her kiss him on the cheek when she reaches for his face. “It was just dance class.”

“Says you,” Ianto quips, smiling a little shyly when Elizabeth moves to kiss his cheek as well. “I’m the walking wounded over here, though.”

He flexes his toes and winces dramatically, and Jack pulls a face at him, making Elizabeth laugh at them both.

“Oh dear, is he still that terrible?” she asks, slipping an arm around each of their waists.

“Mum!” Jack complains. “You’re supposed to take my side here. Don’t the Mum goggles, like, automatically require that you see me as the best dancer ever, no matter what?”

“Hmm, I’ll have to get my prescription checked, I guess,” she teases him, pinching his side and making him squawk again indignantly.

“You should have seen how bad he was at thirteen,” she whispers to Ianto conspiratorially. “The teacher of his class actually excused him from lessons, because he stepped on all the girls’ toes and made them cry.”

Ianto smiles at them both, casting his mind back to Jack at thirteen, all awkward elbows and gangly limbs. He can definitely imagine the picture Elizabeth is painting in his mind. Things were so much simpler back then. They had both hit their growth spurts at the same time and ended up accidentally hurting each other while playing, using limbs that had a mind of their own. Memories of playing on the trampoline in the Harkness garden, showing off the tricks that Jack had learnt through his lessons and trying to teach Ianto. Lying side by side on the trampoline cloud-gazing and, later, stargazing. They used to point out star constellations, and tried to imagine what stars would hold planets and if any of those planets had life. All the imagination of young teenagers. They didn’t have a care in the world, curling up around each other, listening to music and imagining their futures together.

“What do you think, Ianto?” Elizabeth asks him, and he realises that in his musings, he’s dropped the thread of conversation.

“Sorry, um, got lost for a minute,” he says, scrunching his face up apologetically. Jack, he notices, is looking a little red and staring at him strangely and he wonders what he’s missed.

“I asked if you thought you’d have him whipped into shape by the wedding, and when my sarcastic son here told me you weren’t a miracle worker, I asked if he thought you’d have him whipped into shape by  _ your _ wedding, at least.”

She’s got a fond teasing smile on her face, because, of course, this is the kind of thing mothers like to tease their children’s boyfriends and girlfriends about. And this is Ianto’s cue to blush and babble something adorable about how much he and Jack love each other, but they’re just so  _ young _ , and then Elizabeth squeezes them both and tells them that she and Franklin were just eighteen when they first met and you never know. And next, he and Jack are supposed to sneak off and curl up together and hesitantly joke about it, because they are too shy to admit they’ve both thought about it, until eventually they are planning colours and tuxes (maybe a kilt for Jack) and cake and giggling against each other’s mouths between kisses. Ianto knows this, because it is exactly what he and Lisa did when his own mum first teased them. He knows this because he’s seen Rhiannon and Johnny do it (though, admittedly, they took it to a bit of an extreme by  _ actually _ trying to plan a wedding).

But he and Jack  _ aren’t _ boyfriends, and the truth is, Ianto hasn’t thought about marriage in awhile, and has never in the longest time, in his wildest daydreams, pictured marrying Jack. So he knows what he’s supposed to do, knows even how to  _ fake _ what he’s supposed to do, but instead, finds himself staring wide-eyed at the boy in question, knowing he’s gone a little pale, completely tongue-tied and unable to even offer something pithy in answer.

“Have we lost you back to daydreams, dear?” she asks him kindly, and Ianto does blush then, tearing his eyes away from Jack’s own embarrassed and intense gaze.

“Yeah, um, something like that,” he murmurs.

“Don’t worry, honey, I wasn’t trying to pressure you boys. I just know my son, and he’s been walking around the house looking exactly like River did when she and Jodie started dating, or how Gray did when he and Rick… well, I know that look. So I wouldn’t be surprised if he tries to tie you down yet, and he’d be lucky to have you.”

She winks at him and squeezes his arm again, and Ianto feels a little like he might be choking, which is okay because Jack seems to be actually choking. Elizabeth just laughs, and Ianto thinks if she wasn’t such a lovely woman, he’d maybe hate her just a little right now.

“Well! Now that I know you’re home safe,” she declares, as if she hasn’t just made things ridiculously weird and awkward, “I think I’ll make my way to bed and my own boy. Turn off the light in the living room on your way up, won’t you Jack?”

“Wait!” Ianto says, his voice just shy of panicked. He makes himself take a breath so that he sounds more himself when he speaks again. “Um, where should I sleep?”

Elizabeth looks surprised and then as if she wants to make Jack propose to him right then, if it means she can keep him.

“You are just the best thing, Ianto,” she declares. “I knew you were already a good fit for my little boy, but I never expected you to be so sweet! Do you know not one of my kids’ past boyfriends or girlfriends has ever asked me that? They all just snuck right into bed with them; I’d nearly forgotten there were people in the world polite enough to check!”

“Um,” Ianto says, because, yeah, he’d have asked out of politeness but he also really, kind of, needs to know.

“You can just go in with Jack,” she says with another wink. “I know you wouldn’t be able to stay away from each other for long anyway, but thank you for asking.”

With that, she kisses them both swiftly on the cheek once more and swishes out of the room in her dressing gown, presumably to head up to ‘bed and her own boy.’

He and Jack stand together in the doorway of the study, shifting awkwardly in the silence, until finally Jack laughs and breaks the tension.

“God, my family is so messed up,” he groans, hiding his blush in his hands.

“Yeah, but at least you have a family that loves you,” Ianto says, smiling back. “And apparently yooouuu love meeeeee too,” he sing-songs.

Jack goes redder and smacks him playfully against the arm. “You are not allowed to tease me about the things my crazy mother makes up in her head,” he warns. “Retaliation will be brutal.”

“Oh, but Jack, if only I’d known you were wandering around the house looking like a lovestruck fool,” he croons, laughing a little at the absurdity of it and just how much it is riling up Jack. “You probably sigh and play sad love songs and plan our wedding in your secret diary because you loooooove me.”

“You know I  _ was _ gonna ask Dad if we could take the Aston Martin for the drive back to yours tomorrow, but now I think you’re gonna be stuck riding shotgun in the Rover,” Jack says, all fake apology and goofy grin.

“No, wait, I take it back!” Ianto backpedals. “You don’t love me, you  _ hate _ me, and I promise to never tease you about anything your crazy mother ever says again if you let me ride in that car just once.”

“No way, you lost your chance,” Jack mocks him. “You’re lucky I’m still letting you sleep in the bed instead of on the floor.”

Ianto opens his mouth to tease back but is distracted by the vision of the two of them curled up in Jack’s big bed together and loses his thoughts and speech for just long enough that Jack is already walking away.

They turn off the lights in the living room, up into the kitchen, through the breakfast area, towards the corridor in muted darkness, Ianto trailing a half step behind. He feels a little like a kid again, going to his very first sleepover in a strange house, and also very much like a seventeen-year-old stuck overnight with his fake boyfriend in a familiar house, until the lights went off.

It’s strange how spaces feel different in the dark, how a hallway that we’ve walked a million times can seem longer, how the door on either side as we pass can feel suddenly like they might open up onto anything at all instead of the bathroom, or closet, or music room, we know is actually behind them. When they reach Jack’s bedroom, Ianto isn’t sure if he’s more afraid that one of his wild imaginings might appear behind it or that it will just be Jack’s room, that same room that Ianto sometimes finds himself picturing when his mind needs to escape.

It is the same room, just as beautiful as Ianto remembers, but it, too, is different in the dark. The curtains on the window are thrown wide, allowing weak light from the half moon in so that everything looks silvery instead of golden as it had before. The bed is still made with off-white sheets, blue duvet kicked halfway down the mattress. It hits Ianto that Jack must have left if that way when he got up this morning, and that when they go to bed tonight, he will be sliding under sheets that Jack has already slept against. Ianto doesn’t know why the thought makes his stomach feel fluttery with nerves, but it does.

Ianto expects Jack to turn on the overhead light, but instead, he walks around the bed to click on the bedside lamp so that the room is bathed in a gentle glow instead.

“Do you want to shower before bed?” Jack asks him quietly, turning back and facing him across the expanse of the mattress, feeling a million miles away and very very close all at once.

The question reminds him of the first night he and Lisa were together. How they had hurried back to hers, giggling and high on emotions and desire, to stumble up to Lisa’s room in her empty house, kissing and touching along the way. How they’d tumbled onto the bed and pressed against each other for easily an hour, just gentle lips and stroking fingers and whispered wants and promises, until they’d started to really touch and Lisa had hesitantly pulled back to ask, “Do you want to shower first?”

They’d ended up shyly showering together instead, washing off the last of the sweat and make-up left over from Lisa’s show along with the last of their hesitations and apologies.

Ianto’s not sure what to think of his mind making that connection, feels like it is some kind of overstepping, though, whether he’s crossed a boundary linking Jack to the memory or the memory to Jack, he can’t be sure.

“Yeah,” he settles for, shaking off the strange thoughts and feelings his tired mind is conjuring up for him. “That’d be nice, actually.”

“You can use the shower in here,” Jack says, gesturing to a door set in the far wall that Ianto always assumed to be a closet. “I’ll leave you some clothes on the bed for after. I’ll use the hall bathroom and knock before I come back in.”

Ianto is a little bit shocked that Jack seems to be anticipating any of the worries he might have had and doing his best to make Ianto comfortable. Of course, Jack ruins the moment by giving Ianto a smirk and adding, “Wouldn’t want to wake anyone up with your yelps if I accidentally caught sight of an ankle or something.”

“Need I remind you that you saw a whole lot more than an ankle in here just a few weeks ago?” Ianto says haughtily.

“Oh no, I’ve got that image pretty well locked in,” Jack leers, tapping a finger lightly against his temple, and Ianto realises he’s now been the one stupid enough to bring up getting naked with each other right before they have to go to bed.

Before Jack can think of anything else to say to further mortify or tease him, Ianto turns hurriedly on his heel and nearly dashes for the bathroom. Jack laughs a little behind him but doesn’t comment further.

“Towels under the sink,” he calls out. “I’ll leave you some pajamas on the bed or something. I’m just gonna get my stuff, and then I’ll leave you to it.”

“Thanks!” Ianto squeaks and slips into the bathroom, shutting the door hurriedly.

When he takes the time to turn on the light and take in his surroundings, he finds he wasn’t completely wrong before about the door leading to a closet. He’s actually standing in what feels like a little entryway, a door to his right opening up into a sizable closet and a door to his left cracked a bit revealing white tile beyond. It is an interesting setup, and Ianto finds he kind of likes it - though he’d have to see for himself how far the steam carried before he organised his own clothing in the closet, because you wouldn’t want suede to be damaged by lingering moisture.

And now he’s thinking about moving his clothing into Jack’s closet. As if his initial impression of ‘ _ I want to live here _ ’ wasn’t morifying enough. It is definitely time to stop thinking and shower; the sooner he’s done, the sooner he can go to sleep and get this whole exercise in awkwardness out of the way.

The bathroom is small but nice. A large glass shower, which he soon learns has excellent water pressure, takes up most of the room with the other half given over to sink and toilet. The area around the sink is small, and Ianto ruthlessly makes himself stop picturing where on Earth he’d set up all his products if this was his bathroom.

The water feels good, hot and near stinging in its intensity, working out the kinks in his muscles from dance class and then sleeping in a car. It washes away the sweat and frustration of the day, and Ianto is even pleasantly surprised to find that Jack’s shampoo, conditioner and body wash are high-quality with soothing scents instead of the Lynx products every other boy he knows stocks in large quantities. He absolutely does not think about the fact that, as he climbs out of the shower, steam making everything misty and dreamlike, he smells like Jack first thing in the morning.

True to his word, Jack has left a neat pile of clothing on the bed, light blue cotton sleep pants and Ianto’s grey t-shirt that Jack wore home after their other night together. There is even a pair of boxer briefs, which makes Ianto hesitate until he sees the paper stuck on top of the underwear.

_ Don’t worry, tiger; they aren’t mine (or Gray’s, though he stuck his head out of his room long enough to offer). Mum is just in fact crazy enough to have extra, brand new underwear lying around in case guests need it. We’ve got a cupboard full of untouched stuff to prove it if you don’t trust me. _

Ianto can’t help but smile warmly at that, because it didn’t surprise him in the least to find that Elizabeth has a cupboard full of clothing so that guests never have to do without.

He dresses quickly; the pants are a little loose, and his shirt smells like Jack’s house and fabric conditioner instead of his own, which is a little odd, before hesitantly cracking the door open in invitation for when Jack returns. He then finds himself faced with the bed, unsure what the protocol is for this type of situation. Does he climb in? Sit on the edge? Stand awkwardly off to the side until Jack returns and gives him permission?

He settles for pretending to explore the room further in lieu of facing the question. By the time Jack returns, Ianto’s got so caught up in the photographs of what looks like cityspaces in black and white, he’s not even pretending to look anymore.

Freshly showered, Jack looks younger, Ianto thinks, more vulnerable and with his edges softened, hair wet and messy over his forehead and ears. Ianto’s a little startled however, to see that Jack isn’t in pajamas but, is in fact, dressed. The outfit isn’t casual either, looking more club appropriate than anything, and definitely a step up from the awful clothing Ianto has seen him wear sometimes.

“Do you always sleep in such, ah, interesting clothes?” Ianto asks, arching an eyebrow in equal parts question and judgement.

Jack looks down at his clothing and smirks, though Ianto could swear there is a beat of hesitance or guilt in his eyes before the cocky expression takes over.

“Actually, I usually sleep in  _ much _ less clothing,” Jack grins, moving to the mirror he’s got set over his dresser to start playing with his hair. “Like,  _ none _ to be exact.”

“So this is just special for me, then, huh?” Ianto asks. He’s trying for playful but he’s got a sneaking suspicion he knows where this is going.

“No, this is for the hot guy picking me up at the bottom of my driveway in twenty minutes,” Jack corrects, not quite meeting Ianto’s gaze in his reflection. “I, um, kinda got a text while I was in the shower, hope you don’t mind.”

What is Ianto even supposed to say to that? Because he shouldn’t mind, even if they are friends. He’s watched Tosh and Gwen sneak out of sleepovers to see their partners often enough to know you always cover for your friends and don’t complain when they ditch you (unless it is too often or on your birthday or something). But he does mind, and he doesn’t want to mind, so what he says instead is, “What am I supposed to say if someone knocks or comes to check on us?”

Jack does look at him then, and Ianto watches as those eyes flick over him once, twice, almost of their own accord, but then Jack is grinning again.

“I don’t know, moan or something. That ought to scare them off ‘til morning.”

“Not if it’s Gray,” Ianto mutters, and Jack’s face darkens into a slight scowl.

“Well, just tell Gray to fuck off if he’s stupid enough to come knock.”

“Whatever,” Ianto says, waving off the nearly-expected burst of jealousy from Jack when it comes to his brother. “You’ll be back before morning, though, right?”

Jack shrugs as if he doesn’t know and doesn’t care. “Maybe.”

“Well, what am I supposed to do if you aren’t? Hide out here all day and turn people away when they come to check on us?”

“No, just go to breakfast and tell them you wore me out or something. I bet River will drive you home if you’re anxious to leave before I get back.”

“Oh sure, they’re just gonna believe that we had so much sex, you are incapable of getting up. Great plan.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time it’s happened to me,” Jack says, shooting Ianto a wink.

“You can be such a dick, you know that?” Ianto says, sullen and frustrated and hating that he feels that way. “I can’t believe you’re abandoning me in your house with your family in the middle of the night, so you can go hook up with some guy in a seedy bar.”

“It’s probably at least a few steps above seedy,” Jack interrupts, grinning when Ianto rolls his eyes, like this is just some big joke. “Look, I promise if I get caught, I’ll still pay your money, okay? Problem solved. Now you can sleep without worrying your pretty little head.”

Ianto wants to say that isn’t all he’s worried about, because he still isn’t over the way he worries about Jack out all night doing irresponsible things with no one even knowing where he’s at. But Jack is going to go no matter what, and they’ve just admitted they’re friends, so he’s not going to ruin it by nagging.

“Fine, but I’m telling you there is no way your family is going to believe we had so much sex that you’re sleeping all day.”

Jack considers him for a long minute, eyes doing one more involuntary sweep over him and making Ianto squirm.

“Come here,” he says eventually. When Ianto doesn’t move, he rolls his eyes and waves Ianto over again, stepping forward to meet him by the bed halfway.

“I said c’mere. I’m not gonna bite.” He grins a little again, before adding, “Well, much.”

Which probably should have been some kind of clue to Ianto to stay away, but his feet are already closing over his half of the distance. When he gets within reach, Jack stretches out and tugs him the rest of the way in so that they are standing nearly chest-to-chest.

“What…” Ianto starts to ask but loses his words when Jack looks at him and licks his lips.

“I’m gonna make sure they believe whatever story you have to tell them,” he says, voice low and a little bit rough.

“How?” Ianto asks, unable to stop himself from sounding a little bit breathless.

“Tilt your head,” Jack directs. Ianto does, just a fraction, but Jack just reaches up and tugs a bit at his hair to make him tilt further. “No like this.”

Ianto’s head is tilted out and to the side, exposing his neck in one long pale line, and for a minute, he’s afraid Jack will be able to read his nervousness in the increased pulse of his blood through his jugular. Jack isn’t paying attention to that though, eyes still tracking over Ianto’s face. He licks his lips again.

“If you… If it’s too much, tell me to stop, and I’ll stop.”

Ianto wants to ask ‘ _ if  _ **_what_ ** _ is too much? _ ’ but just nods instead, trying not to hyperventilate when Jack moves his mouth to Ianto’s neck.

At first, it’s a relatively gentle brush, just damp lips mouthing over the delicate skin of Ianto’s neck and collarbone, making goosebumps break out all along his flesh. Soon though, Jack picks a spot - just high enough up to be half visible even in a collared shirt, and starts sucking.

His mouth is sealed over the spot tightly, and he suckles at the skin with varying pressure, hard pulls and softer, more soothing sucks, running his tongue over and over the skin as he worries at it. When his teeth graze gently over the now tender flesh, Ianto whines just a little, rocking forward half a step before he can stop himself. Jack doesn’t seem to mind though, as he brings an arm up around Ianto’s back and just pulls him closer until they are pressed together.

The new angle lets Jack suck more tender skin into his mouth, and Ianto - who bruises easily as it is - knows the mark is going to be near purple if Jack doesn’t stop soon. Which means he should probably  _ make him _ stop soon, but each nibble and suck sends sparks shooting down his spine, and he’s being held up and exposed, and he’s a little drunk with it.

Eventually, Jack stops on his own though, pulling off almost reluctantly and swiping his tongue across, what is sure to be, an impressive mark once more before stepping away. His lips are wet and a little swollen from their work, and Ianto can’t stop staring at them, especially when Jack’s tongue darts out again, dragging across that full bottom lip as if collecting the flavour of him lingering there.

Ianto’s pretty sure his own eyes are a little glassy, that his cheeks must be pink and his breaths coming fast, but Jack’s pupils are large so it’s okay. He’s not alone in the weird want of it.

He raises a hand to trail delicate fingers across the abused, damp skin, and Jack’s eyes follow the movement with a look that is almost pleased. Ianto shivers a little as he traces the edges of the huge hickey, little aborted sparks still flying through him at the slight pressure.

“That’ll help convince them,” Jack says a minute later, voice a little bit wrecked sounding.

It takes Ianto a full thirty seconds to even remember who ‘they’ are, but when he does, any lingering sense of intimacy is washed away.

Of course, this is about proving to Jack’s family that they had sex. Because Jack is about to sneak out to  _ actually _ have sex, and Ianto is going to have to perpetuate one hell of a lie come morning. He presses a little harder against the bruise, revels in the way that it makes it ache more unpleasantly than pleasantly.

“Sure,” he says, glad his voice sounds less affected than Jack’s does. “Good thinking.”

Jack shrugs and looks at his feet, and Ianto has never seen him look so strangely nervous before.

“You want me to do you?” he offers without a thought. “For when you eventually ‘come down from bed’ tomorrow?”

Jack’s eyes snap back up, and he looks surprised at the offer. He opens his mouth on a half-formed word before snapping it shut again, face closing off back into the more familiar smirk as he shakes his head.

“Nah, pretty sure I’ll be able to get a few of those all on my own, babe.”

Ianto nods tersely, reminding himself it was a business offer for their business deal and if he doesn’t have to reciprocate, then it is just less work on his end.

“Okay, well you should probably get going if you don’t want to be late for your  _ date _ .”

With the way he sneers on ‘date,’ he might as well have used finger quotes, but Jack isn’t defensive or cocky, in fact he just looks a little lost.

“Yeah, of course.”

Whatever it is he’s feeling, Jack still hurries to pull on shoes and finish with his hair before throwing open the wide window.

“Not using the door?”

“No, this is faster and more discrete,” Jack says.

“Well then, have fun, I suppose,” Ianto says coolly and turns his back to climb up onto Jack’s bed without further hesitation. He’s pretty sure that when your fake boyfriend ditches you to go sleep with someone else, all the taboos about who gets into bed first are null and void.

Jack still hesitates though, one leg swung over the window-sill as he watches Ianto settle into his bed, back against his pillows and legs covered by his wrinkled duvet.

“Did you need something?” Ianto asks pointedly.

“Just making sure you didn’t have anymore more to say, tiger,” Jack says. “You know, like telling me to be safe or something.”

Ianto realises suddenly that Jack  _ wants _ him to say it; he wants Ianto to tell him to be careful and take care of himself. He wants to know Ianto is worried, and Ianto wonders what it is about Jack that makes him crave that sort of care from Ianto when he clearly has a whole family who would be willing to give it to him. It sneaks past all of Ianto’s cold-hearted remaining armour and worms into his heart, and he can’t help but let his voice go warm and soft.

“Be safe, Jack, please,” he whispers, and Jack grins again, back to his cocky self as if he never needed it at all.

“Always am, babe,” he says, patting at his pocket where Ianto assumes he has a condom tucked.

Ianto rolls his eyes, because they both know that isn’t all that he meant, though it is more fond than not. They are doing that thing where they grin at each other like idiots for a bit too, and Ianto can’t bring himself to care enough to stop.

Then Jack winks once more and swings through the window, dropping down with a soft thump that Ianto barely catches.

He lays there in the muted light of the room, imagining that he can hear the light footfalls of Jack making his stealthy way across the gravel drive. After a few minutes, he thinks maybe he ought to close the window, but the warm night breezes are actually soothing and bring in all the smells of summer that Ianto loves so much. So instead he just leans over to switch off the lamp, snuggling down into pillows that smell like a boy he is starting to care for again, more than he ever expected.

\-----

At some point, he must have drifted off because he’s startled from a strange dream about Johnny trying to teach him how to juggle by the sound of a body hitting the floor.

When he sits up, he’s immediately disorientated, the strange bed and unfamiliar room throwing him off until he remembers where he is. Which is right about the time that a groan from the floor under the window reminds him that he’s no longer alone.

He flips on the bedside lamp and hangs off the edge of the mattress to blink in the sudden light at Jack, who is sprawled out over the floor wearing something between a smile and a scowl on his face, clearly drunk and… glittering?

“Jack?” Ianto whispers, obviously more aware than Jack (who’s apparently just thrown himself into the room through the window) that it is still dark which means the Harknesses are sleeping and really don’t need to wake up to this scene.

“Ianto!” Jack says, smiling more truly, eyes wide and glassy as he blinks back. He stares and grins at Ianto, upside down from his position on the floor. “You’re here!”

“Um, yes? You only left me here… four hours ago,” Ianto says, glancing at the clock and seeing it is a little before 3am.

“But you  _ stayed _ .” Jack hums happily. “You stayed here in my bed and didn’t go away.”

“Jack, you’re drunk and not making any sense,” Ianto scolds, crawling out of the warm cocoon of the bed to try and help Jack stand.

Jack laughs when Ianto tugs at his arms, and eventually, Ianto gives up and lets them flop back down to Jack’s sides. He stares down at his palms, which are now covered in glitter, and wonders if he even wants to ask where Jack has been tonight.

“I didn’t think you were coming back tonight,” he says instead, kneeling to try and pull Jack up by his shoulders.

This time Jack moves a little more willingly, letting Ianto haul him up until he’s sitting, though he’s leaning heavily against Ianto’s chest. When he nuzzles his nose against Ianto’s neck, right over the mark he left just hours ago, Ianto fights the shiver that runs through him.

“Wasn’t gonna,” Jack confirms. “Was gonna stay away ‘til you’re gone.”

“So why didn’t you?” Ianto asks. A moment later, he drops his hand from where it had been stroking gently along Jack’s back without his permission.

Jack whines at the loss of contact and tries to snuggle in closer.

“Didn’t work,” he mumbles, sounding sad and dejected.

“What, staying out?”

“Staying away.”

Ianto isn’t sure what to say to that or what to do with the swoop of feeling in his stomach at the words.

“Oh?” he manages to ask, voice a little strangled.

“Mmmhmm. No one there was you.”

Now he’s not making sense again, and Ianto’s head is a little dizzy. He’s still trying to wake up, and Jack smells like tequila and sweat and other people’s aftershave, but underneath it, Ianto can still catch hints of his shampoo and the warm smell that is just  _ Jack _ . He resists the urge to bury his nose in Jack’s hair and seek it out further.

“Of course, no one there was me,” he manages. “I was here. Where you left me.”

Jack hums and nuzzles again, and Ianto suddenly really needs them to move before he starts feeling that swooping feeling again.

“C’mon, up. We need to at least get this glitter off of you.”

“Don’t wanna get up, wanna stay here,” Jack whines, but nevertheless allows Ianto to pull him to his feet.

They shuffle into the bathroom, and Ianto contemplates telling Jack to shower again but, honestly, he’s not sure he trusts Jack to be sober enough to do it without hurting himself, and he’s certainly not about to volunteer to stay in here while it happens.

“Sit,” he says instead, directing Jack to flop onto the closed lid of the toilet.

He roots around under the sink until he finds a flannel next to the towels and wets it with warm water before moving over to start trying to clean Jack up.

The boy moves willingly under his direction, muscles lax as he turns his head and lifts his arms, letting Ianto swipe at least the majority of the glitter and sweat from his skin. Ianto hesitates for a moment at a large patch of glitter that trails down into the neckline of Jack’s shirt, but then chides himself for being squeamish and tugs at the shirt too.

“Off.”

Jack tries and gets tangled in the process, so eventually Ianto has to help him strip it over his head. The glitter doesn’t actually trail too far down his chest, which Ianto is grateful for because if Jack was getting naked in the sparkle club, he really doesn’t want to imagine all the other horrible places for glitter to be.

He rinses and re-wets the flannel before swiping over the last big patch of glitter along Jack’s collarbone, and then takes a deep breath, and wipes down the rest of his exposed chest as well, because Jack is obviously still sweaty and covered with the smell of the club and the men he was dancing - or otherwise engaged - with. Jack hums again, a pleased little noise in the back of his throat, when Ianto works the flannel over his skin gently.

“You’re nice to me,” he mumbles, eyes still closed and head tilted back. Ianto’s hand stills for a moment before resuming its task.

“Of course I am, we’re friends, remember?”

Jack’s face scrunches unhappily for a minute at that, and Ianto rolls his eyes, because it’ll be just his luck if drunk Jack has suddenly decided they aren’t actually friends anymore.

“You don’t even like me,” Jack mutters instead though, letting his eyes blink open slowly to stare at Ianto accusingly.

Ianto folds the flannel over to a clean patch and runs it gently across Jack’s face once more as he looks back.

“That’s not true and you know it,” he admonishes gently.

“Is so true,” Jack argues, but Ianto is not drunk, so he’s not about to engage in a silly primary school game of ‘is not’ and ‘is so.’

“C’mon, time for bed,” he says instead and helps Jack to his feet.

He props the boy against the wall in the weird little room between rooms while he searches in the closet and comes up with a pair of soft grey pajama bottoms.

“Here,” he says, thrusting them out in offer. “Put these on.”

Jack immediately starts to strip off his jeans, and Ianto quickly turns away but not before seeing Jack scowl again at the movement.

He waits until he doesn’t hear anymore noise from behind him to turn around, thankful that Jack has actually managed to get into the pajama bottoms on his own. He’s glaring at Ianto again, though.

“What’d I do now?” Ianto teases, guiding Jack out into the bedroom and over to the bed.

“You don’t even want to look at me,” Jack pouts, even as he clambers up and under the covers. He immediately steals the side of the bed Ianto had been sleeping on, snuggling down against the pillows.

“I’m looking at you now, aren’t I?” Ianto asks, switching off the light so that the room is only barely lit by the moon through the window.

“No, I mean, you didn’t want to see me naked.”

Ianto laughs a little, then more when the sound makes Jack look even grumpier.

“You don’t have to look at someone naked to be their friend, idiot,” he says fondly.

He circles the bed to climb in on the other side, settling in and on his side so that he can still look at Jack next to him.

“But why don’t you want to?” Jack whines. “I look good naked; you’d like me.”

“I like you just fine now,” Ianto assures him.

“Because we’re friends,” Jack says, making it a statement instead of a question.

“Yes, because we’re friends,” Ianto agrees, not really understanding what the disconnect is here. “Don’t you have friends that don’t want to see you naked?”

“No.”

He answers it so easily, like it isn’t even a thought, and it makes Ianto ache a bit.

“Well, you’ve got one now,” he says, reaching out to lay a gentle hand on Jack’s arm.

“I’ve got one I don’t want,” Jack murmurs, and he’s staring at Ianto with something that Ianto just doesn’t understand, so he says nothing at all, allowing his hand to stroke soothingly over Jack’s arm this time without stopping it.

For a few minutes, it is quiet, and the night is heavy and warm. Ianto thinks Jack has dropped back off to sleep when he murmurs again, quiet against the press of darkness.

“You weren’t there.”

“Shh,” Ianto hushes him, stroking softly over his hair instead and trying to coax him back towards sleep.

“I keep looking for you, and you’re never there.”

“That’s because I’m here,” Ianto murmurs back, not really thinking about the little nonsensical musings of Jack’s drunk mind, just wanting to calm him so they can both sleep some more.

Jack blinks open his eyes one more time to look at Ianto, before sinking back into the pillows with a sigh and giving himself to Ianto’s touch.

“Are you?” he asks quietly, voice finally, really sleep soft.

“Yes,” Ianto replies in a whisper. “I’m right here, so you can stop looking.”

“Okay,” Jack murmurs, letting out a deep breath and sinking down further into the pillow. “I’m holding you to that.”

“Sleep, Jack,” Ianto instructs gently.

When the boy’s breaths even out completely into a gentle rise and fall, Ianto adds, “Sweet dreams.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks as always to my cheerleader temporalsilence and my beta princessoftheworlds :)
> 
> this has to be my favourite chapter yet. jack is pining like hell and ianto is so oblivious and i just Q.Q


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ianto wakes up after his late-night confusing talk with Jack.

In the grey pre-dawn light, not really so much later, Ianto stirs as the bed shifts beneath him. He blinks open sleepy eyes, unfocused gaze landing on Jack whose own eyes are open and staring back.

“Jack?” he murmurs, body unwilling to fully relinquish its hold on sleep after only a few hours.

A tiny smile passes quickly over Jack’s face before his expression sobers into a look of quiet contemplation instead.

“Go back to sleep, Ianto.”

“Okay,” Ianto murmurs easily, eyelids drooping shut again as they lose their battle against the pull of dreams. “You, too, though,” he says through a muffled yawn.

“Sure,” Jack agrees quietly. “Me too.”

Ianto manages one more blink to check and see if Jack is in fact trying to sleep again. Jack is still watching him, blue eyes soft in the weak rays of earliest light.

“Jack,” he admonishes, though it comes out more slurred and gentle than he intends. His eyes slip shut again, all the exhaustion of the day and interrupted night weighing him down. He thinks he feels the ghost of a touch against his cheek, stroking up and over his hair, but it is gone before he can be sure.

“Sleep, Ianto,” Jack whispers, and Ianto does.

\-----

When Ianto wakes up again, he is alone.

It is still pretty early, Ianto’s sure, because the room isn’t hot yet even though the large window is as he left it, thrown wide open to the summer air. The sunshine falling over the carpet and bed still has that early morning quality to it too, a little brighter, a little fresher, a little bit full of promise.

He runs a hand over the other side of the bed and finds the sheet cool to the touch, and honestly if it wasn’t for the sprinkling of glitter over the other pillowcase, Ianto might have thought all of last night to be a dream. In fact, it still feels rather dreamlike under the light of day, the sudden arrival of a sprite covered in pixie dust through the window, the weird conversation that seemed to say both much and little, and partly waking later to find Jack there, watching him. It all feels a bit wispy in his mind.

For a few minutes he lets himself just lay in bed. He’s not sure where Jack has got to, but it seems likely that he’s just off searching for painkillers and water, or a shower or something. Besides, the bed is entirely too comfortable to rush out of.

He’s content to allow his body to wake up slowly, relaxed and lazy in the sunshine, but eventually, it becomes clear Jack isn’t coming back. That, and the fact that when he turns his face into the pillow next to him, he realises it smells like him and Jack combined is enough to get Ianto unnerved and moving.

Jack isn’t in his bathroom, and Ianto is tempted to jump back in the shower to clean up as he now has a bedhead and looks distinctly sleep rumpled. However, he’s distracted by his own reflection, specifically the large, blooming bruise covering his neck where Jack had sucked in his mark last night. Ianto watches his own face flood with heat in the mirror but can’t help reaching up to trace along the outline of the lovebite.

When he brushes his fingers over it, he can almost feel the phantom pressure of lips and tongue, and it sends a shiver down his spine that he can’t ignore. That more than anything gets him to break away from the image (god with the lovebite, he doesn’t look sleep-rumpled, he looks  _ sex _ -rumpled).

He decides to skip the shower because, as embarrassing as it is to admit to himself, he’s not sure he could handle being naked and wet with that feeling still tingling along his nerves without doing something  _ very _ inappropriate in Jack’s shower. Which of course leads him to think about the fact that  _ Jack _ has probably done something just as sexy ( _ inappropriate _ , he chides himself,  _ not sexy, not at all _ ) in his shower. Probably a lot of somethings.

So yeah, he’s going to skip the shower.

Instead he pulls on his trousers from last night but sticks with the t-shirt he slept in because his shirt is nearly stiff from sweat and water. He does briefly entertain the idea of poking through Jack’s closet for a completely fresh outfit or searching out Elizabeth’s closet of guest clothing but can’t bring himself to be that bold without permission. He and Jack may be opening up to each other more, may be friends even, but he doesn’t want to push it and make Jack uncomfortable. If his absence from the bed this morning is any indication, he’s probably already feeling a little uncomfortable about babbling at Ianto last night, so Ianto figures he can survive day-old trousers until he gets home to change.

He checks his phone, finds it nearly dead from not being charged, but manages to listen to a message from his mum asking him to try and get home as early as he can today because she’s shorthanded at the shop and could really use Ianto as a fill-in. It’s only 9am now, so Ianto shoots off a text (his mum can read them, but is terrible at writing them) saying he’ll try to be back by noon. That ought to give him time to find Jack and convince him to stop sulking (from embarrassment or hangover, either way Ianto has a feeling he will definitely be sulking) and drive him back home.

The house is quiet around him as he makes his way down the hallway, and he finds that just as a house can feel so much different in the dark, it also feels very different first thing in the morning. Walking around the house in the silence and morning sunshine, wearing yesterday’s clothes and pajamas, Ianto feels much less like a guest and much more like a resident.

The thought is much easier to accept than he expects it to be, in that there is no moment of panic or worry about starting to feel at home here again. It feels, if anything, a little odd to fit here so well, when for so long Jack’s life outside of school might as well not have existed. It’s like those moments when you stop and think that in someone else’s life, you are just an actor with a tiny part crossing their stage; when you realise the people you interact with don’t just stop being and living and thinking when you aren’t with them. Padding down the hallway, Ianto feels a little like he’s walking around in the wings of Jack’s life, and yet, he doesn’t feel as much an intruder as he would expect. Maybe it is because he is no longer a bit player, backstage becoming more familiar as he gets more scenes.

In any case, he only feels a little shy when he stumbles upon Franklin and Gray sipping coffee in the breakfast area, Franklin reading the paper and dressed for the day, and Gray in swim trunks already and a loose vest, sprawled in his chair and staring out in the direction of the garden.

“Good morning,” Ianto says, hesitating for just a moment in the doorway before making himself stand up straight and stride into the room confidently.

“Good morning, kiddo,” Franklin says amiably. “There’s coffee if you want it.”

Gray just turns to smile at him, but the grin quickly becomes blinding in its intensity when his gaze lands on Ianto’s neck. Ianto’s face heats, and he can’t stop his hand from darting up guiltily to cover the mark. Gray, of course, isn’t about to let it go.

Ianto tries to ignore the boy, who is standing and strolling over even now, as he pulls a mug from the hanging tree of them on the counter and reaches for the coffee pot. He is definitely going to need caffeine for this.

“Well, well, well, what have we here?” Gray whispers, thankfully quietly enough not to attract Franklin’s attention from where it is still focused on the paper in his hands.

“Nothing,” Ianto says, knowing it won’t be enough, but he has to try. He’s still got one hand cupped protectively around his neck, even as he adds a little cream and half a spoon of sugar to his cup.

“Really? ‘Cause it didn’t look like nothing from where I was sitting. In outer space.”

He reaches up and pries Ianto’s fingers away, letting out a low whistle at his first look up close.

“Damn, he did a number on you,” he teases. “You must’ve really got him worked up, to leave a mark like that.”

Gray’s fingers trail over the spot, pressing into the centre of it gently, and Ianto hates that he can’t stop the tiny sharp inhale that gets from him, making Gray grin wider.

“Or maybe he was doing it to get  _ you _ worked up.”

Ianto bats the hand away but doesn’t bother covering his neck again. It’s not like he can do damage control now.

“It’s none of your business what gets me  _ worked up _ ,” he says haughtily, which of course just sounds like a challenge to Gray. He is a Harkness boy after all.

“I could make it my business, if you want,” Gray offers, crowding Ianto close to the counter. “Hell, I’d make it my life’s work; just say the word.”

Ianto rolls his eyes but doesn’t have to respond because Franklin does it for him.

“Stop hitting on your brother’s boyfriend, Gray,” Franklin says drily.

“Who me?” Gray asks innocently, backing up half a step and shooting a wink Ianto’s way.

“Just ignore him, Ianto,” Franklin says, looking at Ianto then. “He’s been like that since he was a kid, always liked other people’s things better than his own.”

“Not true,” Gray says. “I like some of my toys just fine.”

“Well, Ianto isn’t a toy, so leave him be. Your brother finally has someone willing to put up with him; don’t scare him off by making him put up with you, too,” Franklin teases, in a way that only a father who loves his children dearly and knows they would never question that love. He gives Ianto an over-exaggerated put-upon look and sighs heavily. “You should have seen how awful he was when River finally brought Jodie home as a girlfriend.”

Ianto smiles at that, thinking of Jodie side-eyeing Gray’s advances. Especially since Jodie is most definitely gay.

“It’s fine,” Ianto says, smiling and waving it off. “Gray thinks he’s big and bad, but believe me if you’ve had friends like mine, a little inappropriate behaviour is par for the course. Plus, I kinda figured I’d have to face some hazards to my sanity when I started dating Jack in the first place.”

Franklin chuckles while Gray pouts, which Ianto counts as another point on his side of the Gray/Ianto interaction scoreboard.

“Speaking of Jack, though, do you know where he’s got off to?” Ianto asks as nonchalantly as he can. He’s still not sure exactly how he’s supposed to play it, after all, considering Jack  _ did _ come home but then disappeared again.

“He didn’t tell you?” Franklin asks, looking surprised.

“Um.” Ianto fidgets for a second and then forces another relaxed smile. “I was still asleep; he probably didn’t want to wake me.”

Franklin seems to accept it, though of course Gray is grinning lecherously again.

“Because he tired you out?”

“Because he was being  _ nice _ ,” Ianto corrects then lets his lips tilt up into a tiny grin. “Besides, he was the one that passed out first last night, so what does that tell you about who tired who out?”

Technically it’s true, though it was mostly the alcohol (and, though Ianto doesn’t want to think about it, maybe a random hookup) that tired Jack out. He still fell asleep first though.

“He left about an hour ago,” Franklin interrupts, and Ianto realises he’s just been making suggestions about his  _ sex life _ in front of Jack’s  _ dad _ . So he’s going to have to add hiding forever in a dark hole to his list of things to do for the day.

“Do you know where he went?” Ianto asks, ignoring his renewed blush and focusing on wondering if he's going to make it to the shop by noon after all.

“Nope,” Gray tells him. “He just said he needed to get out and take care of some things.”

“Oh.”

Ianto isn’t sure how he feels about that. He hopes Jack didn’t feel the need to leave because of Ianto. He knows things were weird last night, really  _ all _ of last night from dance class on, but he’d hate to think Jack doesn’t want to see him or feels like he needs to avoid Ianto for some reason. He also can’t help but feel a little frustrated and angry, that Jack just abandoned him here for god knows how long, as if Ianto doesn’t have a life to get back to and things to do. Plus, leaving him to deal with the family with a giant lovebite on his neck (which, in hindsight, is obviously unnecessary since Jack got back from his sneak out before anyone noticed he was gone) is really a dick move. Ianto must look a funny combination of worry and indignation, because Gray takes one look at his face and starts laughing again.

“Don’t worry about it; he may have just needed a bit of space. He gets like that every now and then, and I’m pretty sure it means he actually likes you more than he’s already let on.”

Ianto wants to argue against that, because why would running away from someone mean they like you, but the more pressing issue here is how he’s going to get home. Gray has an answer for that too.

“I can take you home, or whatever, if you need to be somewhere. I don’t think Jack’s gonna be back for a few hours at least.”

“Thank you,” Ianto says, relieved at not having to let his mum down. Between his own internal turmoil recently and now this whole fake relationship thing, he and his mum haven’t actually got the chance to spend that much time together.

“You need to change, or…?”

“No, I’m good,” Ianto says, looking down at his pathetic outfit a little sadly. “It wasn’t like this was exactly a planned sleepover.”

“So you plan sleepovers often then, do you?” Gray asks, eyes too innocent to be anything but wicked. “Because I’d love to learn how one scores an invite to a Ianto Jones slumber party.”

“Oh it’s easy,” Ianto tells him airily, draining the last of his coffee quickly and then placing the mug in the sink. “Only requirement is that you be either my partner, my sibling, or a friend.”

“Well, I’m your boyfriend’s brother; that’s like two requirements combined into one!” Gray says, clearly pleased with himself. Ianto just rolls his eyes.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather I give you a ride, Ianto?” Franklin teases. “Trapping yourself in a car with that one is not an undertaking for the faint of heart.”

“No way,” Gray interrupts quickly as if afraid Ianto might actually back out. “It’s time Ianto and I had a little heart-to-heart.”

“Oh, is this finally the part where you tell me if I hurt your brother, you hurt me?” Ianto asks, amused.

“No, this is the part where I tell you if you hurt my brother, it better be because you stopped being able to deny how much you want me.”

Ianto laughs. “Well, I suppose I can agree to that.”

“Really?” Gray looks surprised at having won so easily.

“Really. Because I’m not going to hurt your brother, so it’s never going to happen.” Ianto grins, and sticks his tongue out at Gray before darting around the kitchen island to avoid the playful smack aimed his way.

“Alright boys, horseplay outside, please,” Franklin says, not even bothering to look up and smiling himself.

“Fine, fine,” Gray relents with a grin. “I think I’ve decided I don’t want you anyway; you are way too much work.”

“But I’m worth it,” Ianto tells him with a wink.

“I wouldn’t know, would I?” Gray grumbles, leading them out of the kitchen and to the front hall.

Ianto can’t help but laugh, which leads to Gray chasing him out the door to the cars, intent on delivering that playful smack after all.

\-----

The first half of the drive is easy, full of comfortable silences, shooting down Gray’s cheesier advances, and bickering over the radio. After awhile, Ianto has to ask the question that’s been sitting at the back of his mind ever since Gray brought it up.

“Can I ask you something?” Ianto asks hesitantly, breaking the silence.

Gray stops the drumbeat he was pounding out against the steering wheel with his hands and shoots Ianto a concerned look over the rim of his sunglasses.

“Sure, everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, of course,” Ianto assures him hurriedly. “I was just wondering, I guess, about what you said earlier. About Jack needing space sometimes.”

“Ah, that,” Gray says with a little grimace. “I didn’t mean to… well, didn’t even mean to say it really, and certainly didn’t mean to worry you or anything. I guess you fit so well with us sometimes that I forget you haven’t always been around.”

Ianto is pretty sure it’s a huge compliment that Gray forgets he’s not one of the family and takes it as such but waits quietly hoping Gray will elaborate.

“Okay, look, I know I tease about getting you to leave Jack for me and all, but I don’t want to  _ actually _ screw things up between you boys by saying something I shouldn’t.”

“Gray,” Ianto pleads. “I just want to understand him again, and he isn’t always so great at the sharing thing.”

Gray laughs wryly at that, running a hand over his face and tugging at his bottom lip for a moment as he thinks.

“How much has he told you?” Gray asks finally. “About our history I mean, his and mine?”

Ianto’s blank look must be answer enough, because Gray laughs again but it sounds pained.

“Shit,” he mutters. “I should not be talking about any of this with you, not before he does.”

“You don’t have to give me details,” Ianto presses. “Just  _ something _ Gray, please?”

Gray is quiet for a few minutes, darting glances Ianto’s way whenever he can pull his eyes from the road. Ianto just waits him out, using all his patience to not beg or wheedle as he has a feeling that will just shut this whole thing down. Finally, Gray sighs heavily and thumps his head back against the headrest.

“I guess I never have been a maker of good decisions,” he mutters to himself before turning one long look on Ianto and then focusing fully on the road.

“Alright, I’ll tell you a little. But you really should ask him for the whole story; he’s certainly earned the right to be the one to tell it, and I’m not going to take that from him. It’s the least I owe him.”

“What does that mean?” Ianto asks. “What happened between you two to make anyone owe anyone anything?”

Gray ignores his questions, speaking quietly over Ianto until Ianto shuts up and listens.

“I know you’ve probably figured out that I have some, well, history I suppose, with Ricky Hallet,” he begins, looking over to catch Ianto’s nod of confirmation.

“Jack told me that you were friends,” Ianto says, and when Gray shoots him a pointed look he admits, “And that you got caught kissing, and there was some fallout.”

“Fallout.” Gray laughs a little harshly. “I suppose that’s one nice, neat way of putting it.”

Ianto bites his lip in uncertainty, not sure if this, too, is something Gray would rather not share. But Gray is replacing any sign of hurt or hesitance with that familiar cocky smile and continuing.

“That damn coach was lucky all they caught us doing was kissing,” he says with a grin. “Ricky and I… were intense. About a lot of things, about sports and pranks and sex, and - I thought - about each other.”

“You were in love,” Ianto says, not even a question.

“What is love, really?” Gray asks, deflecting. His smile fades a little as he says it, though, so Ianto lets it slide.

“Whatever it was, it was a big deal to me,” Gray says, and his smile is nearly gone now, leaving him looking more blank than anything. “And when it…  _ ended _ , I kinda started to fall apart. I hid it as best I could for a few years, but I couldn’t settle in any one place and started making some stupid choices with my life. It felt like I was always either feeling so much it was driving me insane, or I was feeling nothing at all. I’m not really sure which was scarier, but both led to me doing some things I regret.”

“Is what happened with Jack something you regret?” Ianto asks quietly.

Gray gives him an intense look, face all hard lines and sorrowful eyes that answer Ianto’s question before Gray even says the words.

“What happened with Jack is my biggest regret.”

“You aren’t going to tell me what it was, are you?” Ianto asks, even though he knows the answer to that too.

“No,” Gray agrees. “That’s not my story to tell; I was just the villain in it. Suffice it to say, I hurt him - badly, and it changed him, and I can never take it back.”

“But you guys seem okay now?” Ianto asks, hoping for just a little more.

“Yeah, well, that was kinda my wake-up call. I tried to run to London for a while, thought I’d hide out with River until the dust settled, but she turned me away. Told me if I’d got to the point that I was hurting family, I needed to either straighten myself out or remove myself from the family before I hurt them all more.”

“What did you do?”

Gray huffs another little laugh. “I threw a fit and went on a bender of partying to try and forget it all, which lasted about two weeks, before I realised River was right. So I went crawling back to her, and she checked me in to what people call a ‘mental health retreat’ in polite company, but was really just a swank mental health ward. Was there for about six months, went to therapy and everything, the whole thing, and learned to deal with my shit.”

“And Jack?” Ianto can’t help but ask. “He forgave you?”

“Yeah, eventually,” Gray confirms. “When I got out, I went and found him, and I apologised and told him I’d do whatever he wanted - even if that was staying out of his life. He yelled at me, which I deserved and got in a good punch or two, which I also deserved, and then told me what he wanted was his big brother back.”

“You got lucky,” Ianto says. He may not know Jack as well anymore, but he does know about the selflessness involved in forgiving someone who has hurt you badly. It is not an easy thing on the best of days, and so he knows that even if Jack was the most selfless of creatures, Gray is still lucky to have been forgiven.

“I know,” Gray says, and Ianto knows that he means it. “I know I got lucky every single day he looks at me with love instead of hate. And I also know my punishment is having to watch all the ways in which my actions have changed him, which brings us to what you really wanted to know.”

“Why he sometimes needs space and pushes people away?” Ianto asks. He’d got so caught up in Gray’s history; he’d nearly forgotten what he’d asked that had started it all.

“Yep,” Gray says. “He didn’t used to be so… closed off I guess. He wasn’t so wary about wearing his heart on his sleeve.”

“But that changed, because of  _ you _ ?” As far as he knew, Jack was always a bit closed off.

“Yeah,” Gray says sadly. “I think it did, in that I made him more like me.”

Ianto just looks confused, which is how he feels, but Gray takes a breath and pushes on.

“What I did shook him up, it took away from him that inherent trust he had, in life and in people. Maybe even in love. It taught him that the world can be cruel, and he could be hurt. And what happened with you guys wasn’t just a one-off.”

Gray has to stop and take another deep breath, and Ianto can see that he is honestly still struggling with his role in making Jack into the guy he is today. Ianto thinks about all the times in his life that people hurt him, shook his own faith in people and life and love. He thinks about how, even now with Lisa’s absence, he still has a belief in all those things, even if it is more jaded. And he thinks that whatever happened between Gray and Jack fucked Jack up enough to make him even more jaded than Ianto.

And he also thinks about that night that changed his and Jack’s friendship forever. How they were once so innocent and happy. How his dad fucked them up. He loved his dad, because he was his dad… but he would never forgive his dad’s role in their history.

“I… okay, I understand that much,” Ianto says, trying to sort out his thoughts. “But I’m not sure I get why that means he ran off this morning without giving me a lift home. Or why sometimes he won’t call for days and then just pop up out of the blue, or why sometimes he gets pissy and refuses to talk ro me in anything except for mutual insults.”

He hadn’t meant to share those last parts, had meant to keep it light and suspicion free, but it’s out there now and he  _ does _ want to know, because it has all been bugging him and he certainly isn’t getting answers from Jack.

Gray shoots him a considering look, but answers.

“Okay, let me try to explain. The thing you have to understand, Ianto, is that growing up like we did, there wasn’t a lot in life that we couldn’t control. Nothing was out of reach, and we never worried about getting our desires fulfilled. Not that we were spoiled, though we were a little, but if we wanted something, all we had to do was find a way to be allowed to get it. When River wanted a pony for her ninth birthday, she didn’t have to think about if she even  _ could _ get one, all she had to do was demonstrate the ability to care for a living creature and then my parents came through. When I wanted a car at seventeen, it wasn’t a matter of could I afford one or not, it was a matter of picking out what colour and model I wanted and then proving to my parents I could be a responsible driver. I guess what I’m saying is, they never just handed things to us, but they also always gave us ways to control how and when we would get what we wanted.”

“Oh-kay,” Ianto says, drawing the word out in question. “So no one ever really said no, they just said wait?”

“I guess that’s as good a way of putting it as any.” Gray laughs. “I know it sounds shallow and stupid, but in a way, I think I started beliving I could apply that same logic to relationships and people. All I had to do was figure out the right things to do, the right things to prove, and I could have what I wanted. But people don’t work that way.”

Ianto arches an eyebrow as if to say ‘no, really?’

“Like I said, it was stupid,” Gray agrees. “But it’s something I still thought. When I realised I couldn’t control the way people felt about me, when I realised that no matter how badly I wanted someone to love or want me I couldn’t make them - or make them stay - I found what I  _ could _ control, and that was the distance.”

“What do you mean?” Ianto asks.

“I mean I couldn’t make Ricky fall for me, when I first realised I’d fallen for him, but I could control when I saw him or how far away I stayed. And I couldn’t control it when Rick chose his family over me, but I could control how far I ran after. The only thing I couldn’t control when it came to all those fucking feelings was myself, my physical self and where I went. So I used that as a tool, and after everything that went down between Jack and I, I’m pretty sure he’s picked up that tool from me.”

“So you’re telling me you think he took off this morning because what? I don’t like him? That’s stupid, Gray; I’m his  _ boyfriend _ .”

He doesn’t add that it’s fake, that Jack shouldn’t even care if Ianto likes him or not, and that even if he does care, running away is stupid.

“Yeah, so what?” Gray counters. “Even after Rick and I started our…  _ thing _ , there were still times I needed distance because I was scared I was feeling too much too fast, when I realised just because he was with me, it didn’t mean he had to  _ stay _ with me.”

“But you shouldn’t run away from someone because you’re afraid they don’t feel the same way!” Ianto insists. “You should talk to them or something.”

“Oh, so you’re telling me you’ve never shut someone out because letting people in was too scary or too much?”

That stops Ianto cold.

He thinks about the last two months, about the way he and Lisa both distanced themselves from each other, and knows on his side, it was at least partly because it was something he could control in the situation, and a way to keep himself safe from more hurt.

He thinks about how the whole reason Lisa wants to be apart for the summer is really just a way to distance and buffer, to control the outcome of a breakup instead of risking it being something in which they have no choice or say because feelings changed.

Ianto even thinks about things like how he’s not talked to Gwen much since they finished school, and rebuffed all of Tosh’s cuddle offers, and even avoided his mum, because letting them in takes away his ability to control his hurt and fears and feelings. He thinks about the way he completely shut Jack out after  _ that day _ because it was easier than having to deal with what happened and his emotions around it. And he suddenly understands.

It may not be healthy, hell; he  _ knows _ it’s a terrible way to deal with the world. Knows that shutting things out has nearly always been something he regretted doing, and that it’s something he’s trying harder not to do, but he understands the desire to do it.

It stuns him a little, to think that maybe he is important enough to Jack in some way that Jack is trying to control him, to control them. He’s not going to flatter himself by thinking it means anything besides that they are truly friends again now, or even that Jack’s distance and disappearances at times are all about him, but he also can’t stop a tiny little smile from sneaking onto his face at the thought that he’s not all alone in caring about this weird thing they have between them.

“See, you get it, don’t you?” Gray asks, catching the smile. “And maybe you aren’t as stupid and stubborn about shit like that as us Harkness boys, but ever since I fucked up, Jack has been ruthless and rigid in his control of the distance he keeps between himself and others. It’s one of the reasons I was so fucking shocked when he said he’d actually got a boyfriend, because he’d been like me for so long in going for the no-strings attached hook up.”

Gray grins a little sheepishly at that, as if maybe he’s feeling a little bad about so blatantly throwing Jack’s sexual history in his supposed boyfriend’s face, but Ianto rolls his eyes.

“Please, as if I don’t already know just how sordid his past is.”

“I know you do,” Gray admits. “Just like I know from watching you together that you don’t take any of his shit without giving it back to him, and that you don’t let him push you around. And I also know that he may be giving himself space sometimes, but he’s not letting you far. His little possessive displays around me are proof enough that he doesn’t want too much distance.”

Ianto wants to argue that those ‘displays’ are obviously more about the fact that it’s Gray doing the flirting than it is that Ianto is the one being flirted with, but he’s not sure how to make the argument without admitting that he and Jack aren’t  _ actually _ together.

“He likes you, a  _ lot _ , and that scares him,” Gray says quietly after a minute. “He’d kill me for saying it, so you better never tell him I said anything that might make him sound weak or vulnerable, but if he didn’t like you so damn much, it wouldn’t freak him out to wake up to you in his bed.”

“Who says it’s the first time I’ve been in his bed?” Ianto asks haughtily, feeling like he needs to argue  _ something _ before all this talk of feelings starts making him feel dizzy and confused.

“Not for sex, idiot,” Gray chides. “But tell me it isn’t the first time you spent the night there.”

And of course Ianto can’t tell him that, because it  _ is _ the first time he’s been there. He also can’t exactly tell Gray that it seems more likely that Jack snuck out because he was embarrassed about falling through a window at four in the morning glittering brighter than a Twilight vampire and babbling about never being able to find Ianto on the dance floor.

When Ianto is quiet for too long, Gray sighs.

“Look, I’m not trying to get in your business. Maybe I’m just reading into things; what do I know, right? But you asked about why I said he sometimes needs space, and I told you. Make of it what you will.”

They are only a few minutes away from Ianto’s house, and Ianto spends those minutes in quiet contemplation. He’s not sure that he’s unravelled anymore of the tangled web of his and Jack’s bizarre relationship, but he does feel like he has a slightly better handle on Jack as a person, for which he’s grateful. So when Gray pulls up outside of Ianto’s house, still looking like he feels awkward about possibly overstepping, Ianto surprises him by leaning over and hugging him.

“Thanks, Gray,” he whispers.

Gray is just staring at him, stunned, as Ianto opens his car door, and Ianto adds another point to that mental tally with a smile.

Before he climbs out, though, he has to ask, because he wants to hear it, wants to know at least one of the Harkness brothers is capable of it.

“Gray? You did love Ricky, didn’t you?”

Gray snaps out of his stunned silence, and gives Ianto a sad little smile.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “I do.”

It isn’t until he’s driven off with a salute that Ianto realises Gray said ‘do’ instead of ‘did’.

\-----

Ianto spends the rest of the day, after a quick shower and change (and stealing concealer out of Rhiannon’s room for his neck), at the shop with his mum. They talk for the first time in weeks. And while Ianto doesn’t talk in whole truths - doesn’t say anything about his worries for results day, or Jack or the ruse - he does tell his mum a lot he’s been keeping locked up.

He admits how much he’s been hurting over the Lisa thing (and Glenda arches an eyebrow - so clearly hereditary - because it’s not like that was a surprise). He talks about his fears of moving away to London, of not being close with his parents and Rhiannon, of not being close  _ enough _ in an emergency. He tells his mum about how he’s afraid the city and the university might crush him.

Afterwards, when they are both heading home sore and tired, Ianto realises he feels lighter for having shared when he expected to feel heavier for having admitted his fears.

At home, Tosh and Rhiannon are battling it out over a video game while his dad finishes dinner. Ianto thinks about going up to his room for a while, hiding out with his thoughts, but after talking to Gray and then his mum, he is more determined than ever not to shut people out.

So he squeezes between the girls on the couch, lets Tosh throw an arm around him and pulls him in close, laughing when it means Rhiannon kills Tosh’s character on-screen twice in a row. Tosh flips Rhiannon off but doesn’t really seem to mind, and a minute later, Rhiannon is abandoning her controller to snuggle in with them too.

“‘Bout time,” Tosh mumbles, right before Glenda comes out to call them for dinner (and gets a little teary-eyed at the sight of them all squished together on the couch). “It’s about time.”

And later that night, when Tosh has gone home, Rhiannon has switched to the video game system in her room, and his parents have gone to bed, Ianto sits cross-legged on his bed and calls Lisa.

He gets the voicemail, which isn’t unexpected really, but that’s okay, because he already knows what he wants to say.

**Hey, you’ve reached me, um, Lisa! Leave me a message and I’ll call you back!**

Ianto smiles at the greeting, and then says his piece.

_ Hey Lisa, it’s Ianto. I know we aren’t supposed to be talking, but if you’re listening to this just… just keep listening until I’m done, okay? _

_ Someone said something to me today that made me realise some things, things about myself and things about us these last few months and about this choice we made for the summer, to have a total communication blackout to learn how to be without each other, so that if we came back together we’d know we could survive. I realised that it doesn’t work, though, pushing people away or trying to control a relationship and feelings by shutting people out. Because it doesn’t really stop you from feeling or hurting, it just makes you feel hurt and alone. _

_And I know we’re supposed to be using this time to figure out how we operate without each other, but Lisa… I’m afraid that all we’re really doing is learning_ **to** _operate without each other. I know so much has changed around here in the month you’ve been gone,_ **I’ve** _changed so much, and I’m sure you’re changing too, out there. I’m afraid that if we don’t talk, if we keep apart for the next month and half, those changes are going to be too big - that we’ll be too different - and we won’t even have the time to relearn each other before we leave._

_ I just… things are so strange around here some days, you wouldn’t even believe some of the things I could tell you. And I’ve been hurting so much, I miss you so much, and you’re not here. You’re not the one that’s holding me when I cry or making me laugh. You’re not the one I can call with my secrets or jokes. You aren’t the person I say goodnight to anymore, and I just… _

_ I’m not saying that we have to scrap the plan, if you really still want to keep to it. And I’m not making any ultimatums here about whether I’ll still be around when you get back. But things are changing, Lisa, and I really really think we need to talk. I need to hear your voice, and tell you what’s been going on, and explain all my confusing feelings and changing perceptions, otherwise I’m afraid that when you get back you’ll no longer recognise me, that I won’t be ‘your Ianto’ anymore because you won’t know me better than I know myself. So I guess, just call me if and when you can. Because things are changing, and I don’t know when those changes are going to start being for good. _

_ If not, if you can’t call or if you’re still in the place where controlling the distance between us is something you need to survive, I want you to know I understand. I do. I wish you wouldn’t have to feel that way, but it would be hypocritical to tell you to stop giving yourself space when I’ve given myself space, too. Just because I’m ready to stop running from the fear of hurting each other, doesn’t mean you are. And I get that. I’ll still be here waiting to talk to you in August, waiting to see if you’ve really come back, but I guess I just can’t promise you’ll recognise the boy you’re coming back to. No matter what though, Lisa, I’m not going to push you away from my life, together or apart, we’re always going to be something to each other at least, okay? _

_ Okay. I… I’ll talk to you later, Lisa, whenever you’re ready. _

When Ianto hangs up, he feels a little empty, a little sad, but mostly relieved. He’s finally said what has been in his secret heart for a long time, and now it’s Lisa’s choice. He tells himself that either way, even if Lisa can’t talk to him yet, the pain of that will be worth not having run away from it.

Lisa doesn’t call back, and Ianto doesn’t know if she’s even listened to the message or if she’s just taking option B and still giving herself space to survive. Either way, Ianto still feels better because he’s realised he has just as much control over himself by choosing not to run as he does when choosing to hide. He may not be the same Ianto Jones by the time Lisa gets back, but Ianto is tired of hiding from the changes in himself, tired of trying to control every feeling and reaction and outcome.

He’s ready, he thinks, for some things to be out of his control.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks as always to my cheerleader temporalsilence and my beta princessoftheworlds :)
> 
> this was jack-lite, but i hope some insight from gray explains more of the reasons why jack keeps acting hot and cold with ianto! also, tell me what you guys think of gray? yay or nay?


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ianto gets invited by Jack to River and Jodie's engagement party... last minute, of course.

The last three days have been oddly quiet.

Lisa never did call back, and Ianto’s accepted it for what it is. He still feels the sting of it, still feels Lisa’s absence sometimes like a phantom limb, but he’s learning to cope. He knows now that he’s done his best, and the rest will just have to sort itself out when Lisa is ready. In the meantime, Ianto is bound and determined to embrace his decision to let his life be a little out of his control, to let himself be open to the changes around him instead of stagnating, just waiting for some distant day in August when Lisa may or may not decide to come back to him.

Jack hasn’t called either, which Ianto is surprised to find actually  _ does _ bother him a bit. He figures that’s mostly because he’s sort of counting on Jack to be the one to pull him forward into change, after all who does ‘out of control’ better than Jack Harkness? Partly though, he has to admit at least to himself, he’s also been feeling a little off-balance about where they stand. He’s only just embraced the idea of friendship, and yet a tiny voice in the back of his mind keeps replaying that night and all the confusing things Jack said to him, mixing in a healthy dose of Gray’s thoughts on the subject, and then - for good measure - adding a repeating chorus of ‘ _ I wouldn’t be surprised if he tried to tie you down yet! _ ’ thanks to Elizabeth.

Ianto doesn’t know what to think about it all and more alarmingly doesn’t know what to  _ feel _ about it all. His history makes him more inclined to think he’s probably reading a bit much into the situation (he’s done that so many times, too many times,) and this situation has the added complications of a fake relationship and, well,  _ Jack _ . Jack who is a complication in and of himself, simply because Ianto’s still not sure he can stand him half the time and yet he can’t deny that it’s been only three days and he sort of misses the prick too. Jack with whom he’s shared a mutual history of dislike and disdain and yet is now somehow the person he’s most often honest with.

So he doesn’t even want to begin to guess at what Jack is feeling and thinking, but if it is anything close to what Ianto is feeling and thinking, then their whole quasi-friendship slash fake-relationship has even more potential for misreading.

That is the last thing Ianto wants, to spend another two months pretending or assuming or avoiding, so it would sure be nice if Jack would talk to him at least. He’s called himself, just once because he isn’t about to expose himself to ridicule by seeking out conversation with someone who may well be avoiding him, but that doesn’t stop him from keeping his phone with him at all times and compulsively checking for missed calls or texts. It would feel more pathetic, Ianto thinks, if it wasn’t so confusing. Mostly, he’s just hoping that Jack will call and be his usual annoying self and set everything back on more familiar ground. It’s the silence between them that has always felt more heavy and serious than any of their words.

By the time the phone rings Friday night, it sounds loud in the wake of so much waiting. Ianto checks it, sees Jack’s name, and grimaces at the tiny little swoop of his stomach.

“So, engagement party tomorrow,” Jack says as soon as Ianto answers his phone, no greeting whatsoever. And just like that, just like Ianto hoped, that odd tilt to his emotions are replaced with a more familiarly fond annoyance, and the ground feels like it levels out a bit beneath him.

“Well, hello to you, too,” Ianto drawls sarcastically. “I’m fine, thanks for asking.”

“Hi Ianto, engagement party tomorrow,” Jack repeats.

“Yes, yes, I heard you the first time. Though you know it’s generally polite to give people a little more warning,” Ianto says with a sigh. After all these weeks, he’s got used to some of Jack’s more abrupt mannerisms and is learning to pick and choose his battles. Actually, he thinks that Jack may have always been like this, but most people tend to outgrow it. “What time do I need to be there?”

“Well, it starts at six,” Jack says, pointedly ignoring the commentary on his manners, and then Ianto can almost hear him pause. “But, I was thinking you should come over in the afternoon, like maybe two, so I can make sure your outfit isn’t going to scare off any of the guests.”

“My outfits don’t  _ scare _ people,” Ianto huffs.

“You’re right, people are too busy trying to figure out why you’d wear such clunky boots to be frightened by your clothing.”

“Don’t worry,” Ianto says through gritted teeth, even though by now he knows Jack is mostly (probably) just saying it to rile him up. “I promise to dress plainly for the event. Wouldn’t want to offend your subpar sensibilities after all. I’ll be there at five-thirty.”

“Oh,” Jack says, all trace of teasing gone from his voice and sounding a little… disappointed? “Yeah, sure. That’s fine. You probably have things to do that afternoon anyway, so five-thirty should work.”

It hits Ianto, midway through Jack’s bumbling agreement, that Jack hadn’t really been asking over out of fear of what he’d wear. Jack had been trying, in a very roundabout way, to ask Ianto over early to hang out. Ianto can’t decide what is more delightful, that Jack actually wants to be his friend enough to hang out outside of designated fake-boyfriend activities, or that he was nervous about asking. He thinks mostly it just seems fair for Jack to be feeling as uneven as Ianto has been for the past several days.

For a few seconds after realisation hits, Ianto thinks about calling Jack on it and crowing about how funny it is, getting some form of petty revenge for all the tumultuous thoughts plaguing him that are entirely Jack’s fault. But the truth is, after talking with Gray the other day, Ianto isn’t about to give Jack more reasons to push him away. So instead, for once, he takes the high road.

“You know,” he says, voice drawn out as if considering something that has just occurred to him. “I wouldn’t mind coming over early to make sure you and Gray are appropriately dressed. River, I trust; she’s told me about the places she shops at, and I’ve seen her outfits, but you two? Not so much.”

“What’s wrong with the way we dress?” Jack grumps, sounding so offended that Ianto is grinning now.

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe the fact that you tend to look like a typical teen, and Gray seems to live by the idea that clothing is either revealing or completely optional.”

Jack laughs at the description, though he tries to cover it up with more pouting.

“My clothes aren’t that bad,” he grumps. “And I’ve got to wear a fucking tie to this thing anyway, which severely limits the ‘typical teen’ look as you like to call it.”

“ _ All _ your clothes aren’t that bad,” Ianto agrees. “Just the ones you often choose to put on your body. But I’ve seen the size of your closet, so I have hope yet that it might hold something decent. I’ll be over at two tomorrow to find out.”

Jack sounds for a minute like he’s going to continue to argue but goes quiet when he comes to the realisation that he’s got what he wanted out of the whole thing (not, Ianto is sure, that he’s supposed to be aware of that fact).

“Sure, whatever,” Jack says instead, like it doesn’t matter to him either way. “Come or don’t. Either way, you aren’t touching my closet.”

“We’ll see.” Ianto hums, because  _ nothing _ has ever kept him from a closet he wanted to get into (and yes, he is very aware of how hilariously ironic that statement is. It doesn’t make it any less true). If he could get at Gwen’s animal sweaters, he can certainly conquer Jack’s popped collars. (Never mind the fact that, much like with Gwen, there is a high probability anything Ianto weeds out will somehow end up back in. It’s the process he likes, even if the result is only temporary).

Jack laughs like he knows it’s a fight he’s going to lose, but he’s going to enjoy going down swinging. “Alright, babe, you can play Henry Poole all you want; it doesn’t mean I’m going to listen.”

“Like I said, we’ll see,” Ianto insists. “Either way, I’ll be there by two. If nothing else, I have a feeling you can be convinced to help me wrangle Gray into something more than swimming trunks.”

“I’m a little afraid if I  _ don’t _ help you, he’d end up enjoying the ‘wrangling’ process a little too much,” Jack says with another laugh, though this one is a little darker.

“Ah, see. This is you assuming that the wrangling process involves my hands anywhere near his body,” Ianto jokes. “When in fact, all it involves is threatening to bedazzle his underwear if he doesn’t put on what I picked out.”

He can practically feel Jack smirking over the phone at him as he teases back, “Babe, you say that like it’s a joke, but we both know you actually own the bedazzler to do it.”

Ianto is silent for just a beat too long, which is as good an admission as any.

“Oh my  _ god _ ,” Jack crows over the line. “You  _ do _ , don’t you? You actually fucking own one.”

“Shut up, a customer came into the shop one day asking about bedazzling a suit so I tried it out on some spare fabric.”

Jack is still laughing at him, but he trails off contemplatively after a minute.

“You’re picturing me in that suit, aren’t you?”

“Maybe.”

“And how ridiculous are you picturing me looking?”

“Well, once I got the plastic jewels out of my head, actually? Kinda hot.”

Ianto has no idea what to say to that, because it is definitely something he didn’t expect to hear. And it isn’t helping with his stupid confusion  _ at all _ .

“Oh?”

“Mmhmm.” Jack hums, sounding a little bit embarrassed about the admission but not taking it back either.

There is a minute of almost, but not quite, charged silence between them, and then Jack laughs.

“Don’t think that means they’d be appropriate wear for this party though, okay? You’ll upstage the brides-to-be.”

“Like I’d ever try to upstage any bride.” Ianto sniffs, only mildly offended. “Don’t worry, I can look hot in other things too.”

“Guess we’ll see,” Jack teases. “Tomorrow at two?”

“Tomorrow at two.”

\-----

By the time Ianto arrives the next afternoon, the entire Harkness estate is already abuzz with activity. Just driving up to the house feels like fighting the worst of rush hour traffic, what with all the delivery vehicles, catering vans and other cars of staff. It is the first time, strangely, that it really sinks in for Ianto that Jack’s family isn’t just well-off, they are very  _ very _ rich.

You’d think it would have been the kind of thing he realised when Jack offered him £5,000 without batting an eye. Or maybe when he drove up to the house and property, and listened to Jack’s stories about ‘old money.’ At the very least, he thinks he probably should have made the connection when he saw all the damn cars they drive. But there is something about seeing the people, all these worker bees buzzing around the Harkness hive, people whose jobs are simply to make the Harknesses’ vision of this party come to life, that makes their wealth a real thing for him. Knowing that they have not just things but  _ people _ is what makes Ianto feel, for the first time, a little like Cinderella at the ball - out of place and pretending.

He’s never seen servants around the Harkness home, knows that Elizabeth makes their dinners and Jack and Gray get yelled at to clean their rooms, that Franklin washes the cars on Sunday and River helps water the back garden. And seeing how it could be, knowing that they have the power and the money to make this bustle of serving activity their everyday lives, he is a little more grateful that they are exactly who they are and nothing more or less, because he’s not sure he would have felt as warmly welcome in a home where no-one ever does anything for themselves.

Ianto climbs from his car, carrying his two suit bags (he’d not been able to settle on either the charcoal grey or the navy with subtle pinstripe, and thought he’d wait to see what he decided to put Jack in before choosing) as well as his bag full of accessories. He trusts Jack to have at least one good suit in his closet, he’d practically  _ have _ to, what with all the events the Harknesses must attend, but he’s not about to go to all the work of making Jack look good and then have it fall apart for want of the right tie.

He dodges a man carrying several towering flower displays, skips out of the way of two women supporting a three-tiered cake between them, and is pretty sure he spots someone carving a block of ice off to the side of the driveway. By the time he’s reached the front door, he’s still feeling a little overwhelmed, but he’s let the buzzing energy in the air of the afternoon excite him too, and so it is with a smile and a wink that he greets the bundle of Harknesses he finds huddled in the doorway.

“Hello ladies, looking gorgeous as always,” he says, pausing to give both Elizabeth and River kisses on the cheeks. Gray, the third member of their little huddle, tries to move in for kisses of his own, but Ianto just rolls his eyes and shoves at him.

“Hey, aren’t I looking gorgeous as always?” Gray pouts, abandoning his mother and sister to trail after Ianto towards Jack’s room.

Ianto pauses in the doorway of the kitchen and turns, letting his eyes drag over Gray’s form slowly. Even in his standard summer outfit of swimming trunks and little else, of course he looks gorgeous, but Ianto isn’t about to give him the satisfaction of admitting it. Gray, true to form, preens under the scrutiny, posing and flexing ridiculously until Ianto is fighting to hold back his laughter. He can’t fight the smile though, even when he tries to play his answer off as dismissive.

“Hmm, you look adequate, I suppose. Not a fan of the orange flip-flops though; you know those are going to give your feet weird tan lines, right?”

“That’s the best part,” Gray teases, grinning back and poking Ianto’s side playfully to get him moving again. “That way I have a little bit of summer tattooed on my feet all the way through at least November.”

“You are, by far, the strangest man I have ever met,” Ianto tells him, coming to a stop outside Jack’s room. “And I’m dating your brother, so you know that means something.”

“I’ll take it as a compliment,” Gray tells him, abandoning Ianto in front of the door and walking backward down the hallway to the kitchen.

“It wasn’t meant as one!” Ianto calls after him, but Gray just smirks.

“Still taking it!”

Ianto flips him off, getting a grin and Gray’s trademark salute in return, and finds himself alone in the hallway outside Jack’s room.

It hits him, then, that this will be the first time he’s seen Jack since Monday night when they fell asleep next to each other. For a moment, the thought freezes him as he wonders if things are going to be weird, if he ought to bring it up or avoid the topic completely. He even thinks briefly about faking an emergency call from his mum and sneaking off until closer to six and the actual party. But then he reminds himself of his decision from the other day - that he isn’t going to hide, and he isn’t going to run, and he is going to embrace fully all those things which are out of his control.

So he opens the door and steps into chaos.

Gone is the serene retreat he remembers, leaving behind a whirlwind of strewn clothing, tilted coffee mugs, a box of cufflinks scattered across the chest of drawers, and Jack - half naked and standing in the middle of it all with wild eyes and pulling at his hair by the handful.

It is a compelling image, and Ianto feels a tug low in his belly at the way the afternoon light illuminates Jack’s chest. His skin is nearly golden, lightly-tanned by summer already, and Ianto can’t even pretend to himself that what he is feeling is anything but desire. Jack may be a lot of things, but despite Ianto’s many insulting comments to the contrary, he is certainly beautiful to look at.

It isn’t that Ianto hasn’t noticed before either, nor is it the first time he’s seen Jack shirtless after all these weeks in each other’s company, but this time the view is unimpeded by worry or sadness or alcohol, and there is no glitter in sight. It is just Jack, looking harried and chaotic and so, so  _ real _ , and Ianto can’t help the way it worms under his skin, making him feel a little overheated and achy.

The images his mind is conjuring up, of Jack shirtless and above him on the bed again with no mum walking in this time, aren’t helping matters. Especially since he’s come here with the intention of not reading into Jack’s actions and words, and he’s still not sure himself how he feels about the lurch of want that seems to be following him around whenever Jack is nearby. So he forces another deep breath into his lungs and blinks slowly once, twice, clearing away everything but the fact that he is here as a friend.

Jack looks up a moment later, and Ianto watches in fascination as something in those blue eyes relaxes just a little, and for just a moment, before they look as stressed as they did before. But he saw it, that little shift, and embraces the out-of-control little bloom of warmth in his chest from it.

“Thank  _ god _ you’re finally here,” Jack sighs by way of greeting. “River and my mum have been going crazy all day, which of course means they’re making all of us crazy, and I swear Gray keeps sneaking in and stealing things like my socks and the blue tie I was going to show you, and my-”

“Jack,” Ianto says gently, stepping in close enough to pull the boy’s hands down out of his hair and into his own. “Breathe.”

Jack exhales, loud and sudden, and then laughs a little self-deprecatingly. “Fuck, okay yeah. Breathe, I can do that.”

“Good.” Ianto smiles, letting go of Jack’s hands and stepping back so he can better appraise the room. “So, I take it things have been a bit busy around here this morning?”

“You have no idea,” Jack moans, flopping face first down on the bed, directly on top of a pile of shirts and trousers. He turns his head enough to look up at Ianto, eyes a little pleading. “Please tell me you feel up to making a break for it, because I don’t think I can survive the next eight hours.”

“You can, and you will,” Ianto tells him, beginning to sort through the various piles, draping clothing over his arm, righting coffee cups, and otherwise tidying up. “Just tell me where this all went wrong, and then I’ll help you fix it.”

He’s not sure when he started wanting to be the one that helps Jack fix things, but he is here and Jack looks lost, and all he can picture is Jack’s face when Ianto asked if he had any friends that weren’t in it for the sex. So Ianto is going to help him fix it, and he’s not even going to let himself feel weird about it.

“It’s just this whole party,” Jack groans. “It’s the exact kind of thing I hate. It’s going to be rooms full of people all pretending to be discussing how happy they are for River and Jodie but really just talking about themselves. It’s all posturing and fake smiles and bad lift music. Worse, my dad told me I’m expected to make a toast. I guess since Gray’s making one at the  _ actual _ wedding, god help us all, I’m the brother that’s supposed to make one tonight.”

“Couldn’t you just say no?” Ianto asks, ducking into the closet to dump his armful before coming back out to pull the last of the scattered clothing out from under where Jack is still sprawled over the bed.

“You don’t say no to my dad,” Jack says mirthlessly.

“I get the sense that might be a family trait,” Ianto teases, shoving lightly at Jack’s side to get him to roll over.

“At least the champagne will be good.” Jack sighs, flopping over to his back to let Ianto get at the rest of the clothing pile. “And available in abundance.”

“Hmm, well then, the evening ought to be entertaining at least. Just warn me if you plan on breaking out the glitter, okay?” Ianto teases.

Jack rolls his eyes and buries his face in one of the pillows at the head of the bed. “Oh god, don’t remind me. Do you know how awful it was trying to scrub that shit off with a hangover? It got fucking  _ everywhere _ .”

Ianto isn’t sure why he doesn’t just laugh with Jack and move on with the conversation. Maybe it’s because Jack’s words bring to mind Ianto’s memory of wiping glitter off sticky skin. Maybe it’s because it reminds him that he  _ doesn’t _ actually know how awful it was for Jack because Jack took off that morning before they really had a chance to talk about anything. Maybe it’s because he’s got this brand new commitment to out-of-control. Whatever it is, though, he  _ doesn’t _ think for once when he pauses and says, “Can I ask you something?”

Jack must pick up something in his tone because he freezes up, his sprawl on the bed looking tenser than before.

“Sure?” he responds, looking like what he really wants to do is say ‘no.’

“Okay,” Ianto says, taking a deep breath. The first part had been easy; he hadn’t been thinking at all, but now all his usual nerves are coming back, and he’s fighting to not start throwing up walls between them. But he just… he needs to know.

“The other night, you said some things,” he begins and he watches as Jack sucks in a hasty breath and doesn’t let it out again, just continues to stare at him a little wide-eyed. “And I knew you were drunk so I wasn’t really giving it too much though, but then when Gray was driving me home  _ he _ said some things.”

“What kinds of things?” Jack asks, finally releasing the breath but not looking any steadier.

“Um.” This is the part Ianto doesn’t know how to say, because he’s a little afraid he’s going to get an answer he doesn’t yet know what to do with or else be laughed at for even asking the question. “I guess he made me think that maybe, well… that maybe you might like me.” He finishes on an outrush of breath, a little hurried, but there is no way he’s asking again so he hopes it was clear enough.

They just stare at each other for what feels like an eternity but is probably actually less time than it takes to blink an eye. And then Jack laughs.

It isn’t quite that genuine, relaxed one that Ianto loves so much; it sounds perhaps a little strained, but Ianto can still hear the blood rushing in his ears, so he’s not sure he’s the best judge of such things at the moment.

“Well, I  _ do _ like you,” Jack says, plastering on a smile. “We decided we were friends finally, didn’t we? Was I supposed to keep acting like I didn’t?”

“No,” Ianto says. “No, of course not. But he, Gray… what he was saying made it sound like maybe you liked me as  _ more _ . Than a friend I mean.”

Jack cocks his head to the side and looks at Ianto as if he is some curious animal in a cage at the zoo. Ianto might have better noticed that the nonchalance of the movement is in fact a bit forced and brittle, if he wasn’t feeling rather brittle himself.

“Well that’s good, right?” Jack asks, as if trying to reason his way through this conversation as he’s having it. “Because he’s supposed to think I like you as more. Fake boyfriend, remember?”

“Right, no, of course I remember,” Ianto huffs, starting to feel embarrassment settle over him, but he’s already pushed this far, might as well be sure. “So you don’t, then? Like me as more?”

Jack opens his mouth, closes it. Opens again. “No, of course not,” he scoffs, letting his head loll back against the mattress so that he is staring at the ceiling instead of Ianto. “I mean, that would be awfully stupid of me, wouldn’t it? You and I are barely friends, which is fucking masochistic enough as it is.”

Ianto laughs, quiet and a little wry, as what feels like relief battles with what feels like (but couldn’t possibly be) disappointment in his chest.

“Plus, you know,  _ Lisa _ ,” Jack says. Ianto thinks it was meant to be a statement but it sounds like a question.

“Yeah, Lisa,” Ianto agrees, because he isn’t sure exactly what Jack means by that but no matter what he’s implying, the truth is the ‘Lisa’ of it all is still very much a factor in Ianto sorting out his own emotions and thoughts. Perhaps less of a factor than she was over a month ago, but still.

The silence between them is awkward this time, and even Jack doesn’t seem able to conjure up a laugh or a joke to break it. Eventually, Ianto has to speak just because anything is better than this weirdness.

“It was stupid of me to bring it up,” he says, shrugging a bit self-deprecatingly. “Just with the things you were saying I guess… it was just a weird night.”

He reaches for the last shirt still laying on the bed, half under Jack’s body, desperate to resume his task of tidying up and move back to their newfound easy camaraderie. He is determined not to think about the fact that the shirt is now warm from Jack’s body heat, or that the boy himself is laying  _ right there _ with nothing on but a pair of unbuttoned black trousers. His fingers are just brushing over the material of the polo when a hand on his arm stops him.

When he looks over Jack is staring at him, face a mess of contradicting emotions, from embarrassment and awkwardness to that cocky, angry armour, and a little vulnerable pleading too.

“Ianto,” he says, so quietly, and he’s still holding Ianto’s arm. “About the other night…”

“We don’t have to talk about it anymore,” Ianto says, his own voice hushed. His eyes can’t seem to focus; they keep skipping from Jack’s face to the bedspread to the hand on his arm and back again. “I just wanted to… I don’t know. I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

“I’m not… I’m not sure exactly what I said to you that night,” Jack admits. “I mean, I know I was talking, and I know you were being nice to me, but I don’t…”

“You didn’t say anything bad,” Ianto assures him, brings his free hand up to squeeze at the hand Jack is gripping his arm with. “If that’s what you’re worried about. You didn’t like, mortally offend me or anything.”

“Well, that’s something, I suppose,” Jack says, smiling a little. “But, um, whatever I did say? That made you think that I… I didn’t mean…”

“It’s fine,” Ianto tells him firmly. “You didn’t- you didn’t say anything really. It’s just me, being…”

“Being what?” Jack asks, looking like Ianto’s answer is monumentally important.

“Nothing, never mind,” Ianto says, because he doesn’t know what else  _ to _ say. “I was just making sure that it was part of the act, I mean.”

“Yeah,” Jack confirms, mouth tilting down just a little before lifting back into a smile, and letting go of his grip on Ianto’s arm finally.

“Okay then.” Ianto smiles back and teases, “So then we’re friends, right? You aren’t just faking that part, too?”

Jack grins wryly again, “No, that part unfortunately is real. Though I am hopeful I just imagined your silly rule about the ‘friends not needing to see each other naked’ part.”

“Nope, pretty sure that’s still very true, which means you should probably find a shirt,” Ianto says as lightly as he can, patting Jack’s hand one more time before stepping away.

He doesn’t let himself wonder about why if Jack can’t remember much of what  _ he _ said that night, he can still somehow recall  _ Ianto’s _ words so clearly. Or about the fact that Jack’s teasing is apparently quickly beginning to shift from ‘cruel’ to ‘flirty’. Jack looks at him shrewdly for a moment, as if trying to read something in Ianto’s face, but eventually lets a smug grin replace the uncertainty there.

“I always knew I was too hot for you to handle, babe,” he smirks, running a hand down his torso in a way that ought to look posed and comically ridiculous but still somehow ends up making Ianto drop the cufflink he’s trying to pick up twice.

Jack catches his fumble and laughs again, bright and honest but not mean, and the last of the tension between them finally breaks. Ianto throws the cufflink at Jack’s head and wonders what it is about that laugh that never fails to set him at ease.

“So is the whole extended family coming tonight?” Ianto asks casually, trying not to watch the way the muscles in Jack’s torso move as he tugs on the polo from the bed, and so beyond ready to switch conversation topics.

“No, most of them are just coming to the actual wedding. Tonight is all about Cardiff’s social elite, the wedding party, and River and Jodie’s more local friends.”

“Well, that shouldn’t be too bad, right?” Ianto asks, a little unsure. “Sounds like, if anything, it’ll be like one of those stuffy formals that Lisa dragged me to last year.”

“Oh baby, no,” Jack says pityingly. He somehow snuck in closer when Ianto wasn’t paying attention and when Ianto looks up, startled at the proximity, Jack reaches forward to frame Ianto’s face with his hands. Ianto takes a sharp breath, wonders all at once if he is about to be kissed, but then Jack just grins at him again and says, “It’s going to be a fucking nightmare.”

Ianto shoves Jack away playfully, trying to hide the way the touch has affected him, but Jack doesn’t let himself be pushed far. He starts sorting through the spill of cufflinks with Ianto instead, their fingers brushing every once in a while when they reach for the same one.

“Is it really going to be awful?” Ianto asks after they’ve been working side-by-side quietly for a few minutes. “I feel like maybe I should be preparing for battle or something.”

“No, I’m probably exaggerating a little,” Jack admits. “River getting all stressed about it and taking it out on all of us just put me in a bad mood. Mostly, it’ll all be very posh and dull.”

“But at least there’s champagne,” Ianto teases, parroting back Jack’s earlier words.

Jack laughs and bumps their shoulders together in what is now a familiar gesture, and Ianto bumps back.

\-----

“Do I have to?”

“Yes,” Ianto says firmly, holding Gray’s blazer out in offering. “You really do.”

“I hate these stupid fancy parties,” Gray grumbles, sounding very like a petulant six-year-old, much to Jack’s amusement if the chuckling coming from behind Ianto is any indication.

“You know, I remember when River would have insisted on something like an elopement instead of all this black tie shit,” Gray continues, though he’s at least taken the blazer from Ianto now which is more progress than they’ve made in the last ten minutes. “When the hell did she get so uptight?”

“I can go ask her for you,” Jack offers, smirking when Gray shakes his head hurriedly. “I’ll be sure to tell her it was  _ you _ that wanted to know.”

“Or,” Ianto interrupts. “You could both stop fucking around and get dressed. Since, you know, it’s already quarter to six and people are going to be showing up anytime now.”

They both look sheepish at the reprimand, which is all well and good but Ianto actually needs them to finish getting dressed now. Please. (And not just because staring at two half-dressed sexy men is starting to be a bit hard for his libido to ignore, but also because  _ he _ still needs to get dressed, hasn’t even managed to unzip his suit bag yet what with chasing after these two trying to get them halfway decent. Really, he doesn’t even dare imagine the chaos it all would have been had he  _ not _ been here. River would have probably exploded.)

Gray sighs heavily but finally pulls the blazer on and slips into the waiting formal shoes by the door. Ianto gives Jack a stern look to get moving, as he’s still standing bare-chested with his button up shirt hanging loosely off his arms and shoulders. He rolls his eyes at Ianto but starts doing up the buttons in any case, so Ianto just returns the unimpressed look and turns to straighten Gray’s tie.

With a final tug at the lapels, Ianto deems Gray acceptable and pushes him out the door of the room, admonishing him to go ‘right outside to help greet guests.’ Gray grins at him and shouts a ‘yes, mum’ over his shoulder but Ianto sees him moving toward the hallways so he lets it go, turning to help set Jack to rights.

Jack is tucking his shirt in, trousers unbuttoned still and a little loose around his hips and he smoothes the material down. Ianto swallows heavily around the sudden catch in his throat, holding himself back from reaching forward to help.

Thankfully, once Jack finishes tucking in his shirt, he buttons himself back up. Ianto can’t stop himself from moving in to help pull the lines of the shirt straight, to fix a misaligned button near the top. Jack allows him to fuss, holding his arms out to the side obligingly as Ianto moves around him. It all feels rather domestic actually, which is perhaps even more unnerving than Jack half undressed.

Jack smiles at him indulgently as Ianto fiddles with the collar, and his hands come to rest on Ianto’s hips in a gesture that feels natural and automatic. Ianto knows his breath is coming in shorter bursts, knows that this whole thing is affecting him more than it ought to, but something about being this close - not just physically, but close in the way that means Jack trusts him to fix his clothing, that Ianto feels comfortable enough with Jack to touch him like this, hands drifting over chest and shoulders and neck with familiar ease as he tugs and tweaks - is setting Ianto’s entire stomach aflutter and sending his mind racing.

Before he can think too much though, Jack drops his hands and steps back, lifting his blazer from the bed to shrug it on and giving a final twirl for Ianto’s approval. Ianto takes a deep breath and makes himself settle, focusing on giving a critical once over to Jack’s outfit. Suit fashion, it turns out, is an  _ excellent _ distraction from emotional upheaval.

“So?” Jack asks with a smirk that says he  _ knows _ he looks good. “What’s the verdict?”

He does look good too, the dark grey slim cut of the suit accentuating his nicely-muscled frame. Ianto had decided they’d go simple with the rest, a light blue shirt and a tie to match his suit that Jack finally found under his pillow (Gray hadn’t stolen it after all) and with Jack all buttoned up, hair coiffed and smile firmly in place, he looks like he just stepped off a runway or out of a high-powered office building. He looks handsome and grown up, and Ianto’s fingers are already itching to touch him again. He tells himself it’s just the suit.

It’s probably the suits.

He pretends to need a moment’s more consideration anyway, partly to steal a few extra seconds to look but mostly because he enjoys the way Jack gets huffy when he’s being scrutinised. Eventually, when Jack’s grin falters just a little, Ianto relents.

“I suppose you’ll do,” he sighs a tad dramatically, as if Jack is merely adequate instead of nearly stunning.

Jack scoffs but is grinning again, obviously picking up on the unspoken compliment under the criticism. He steps toward Ianto and opens his mouth, probably to say something ridiculous or crude Ianto is sure, but the chiming of the doorbell echoes from the front hall and interrupts.

“Damn,” Ianto groans, hurrying back toward the bed where he’s laid out his own clothing. Normally he’d want longer to get ready, but arguing with the bickering brothers has stolen all his time and now he’s just trying not to panic about looking decent in front of, as Jack termed them, ‘Cardiff’s elite.’

“Don’t worry about it,” Jack tells him, moving up behind to try and see what Ianto is pulling from the bag. “The party won’t really get started for at least another half hour, you have time.”

Ianto wants to tell him he doesn’t have  _ enough _ time. Not to get dressed and pick out accessories, to fix his hair and - perhaps most importantly - steel his spine for this new kind of experience. He hasn’t had the greatest history with the entitled people of this fair city after all, with Lisa, and even those who weren’t outwardly dismissive of him because of his status were mostly intimidatingly cold or aloof. The group downstairs might be here for River and Jodie, but they can’t all possibly be like the Harknesses - open, accepting and warm - and while Ianto would normally be all about ‘fuck them if they don’t like you,’ he actually would like to make a good impression tonight, for River and this family he has somehow become a part of, if nothing else.

“Yes, well, I won’t have time if you keep getting in the way,” he grumbles, pushing Jack from where he’s been crowding in close and trying to pull at the suits Ianto now has in his hands as if to help. “And stop grabbing! You’re going to wrinkle it.”

“Jeez, calm down,” Jack teases, backing off a little nevertheless. “I was just checking to make sure you didn’t go for an all-black ensemble.”

“Out,” Ianto says, pointing at the door to the room. Any other time, he’d be willing to go a few wounds with the insult game - it might have even helped calm him to be honest - but right now, he has time for nothing but throwing on clothes and a smile, and he can’t do either of those things with Jack leering at him.

“Aw, come on, tiger,” Jack croons, still grinning bright and silly. “Don’t you want my help? I’m  _ very _ good at getting people undressed in no time at all.”

“Somehow I think I’ll be able to manage without you,” Ianto deadpans, gesturing at the door again impatiently. “So you can go. And could you lay off the goth jokes for one night?”

“Fine fine, no goth jokes, I promise,” Jack relents, face the picture of innocence. He even crosses his heart for good measure. Of course he ruins it all when he ducks out the door, shouting back, “Maybe a few.”

Ianto debates for all of thirty seconds, running after Jack, just to keep him from having the last dig, but he can hear laughter coming down the hallway and even if his current outfit is far from shabby, he isn’t going out in anything but a suit. So he just closes the door forcefully instead and starts building an arsenal of insults in his head as he starts to strip.

\-----

Twenty-seven minutes later, Ianto figures he looks as good as he’s going to and feels about as brave as he can given the limited time he’s had to psych himself up. He’d ended up pairing his pale pink shirt with navy tie, with the navy with a subtle pinstripe suit, not wanting to look too matchy with Jack as that was something that tended to make him roll his eyes when other couples did it. And, fake relationship or not, that’s what he and Jack will be playing all night long for an audience.

He runs his fingers carefully through his hair one more time, does a turn in front of the mirror and then makes himself walk to the door. One more deep breath and he pulls all of his self confidence and charm to the forefront, letting it settle over him and ground him. He can totally do this, mingle with strangers and be simply  _ delightful _ , because he is Ianto-fucking-Jones and no-one is better than him.

He freezes for just a minute when he gets to the top of the stairway leading down into the living room, and the voices, music and laughter from below amps up. There is a new group standing at the bottom of the stairs, five or sex people who have obviously just arrived are being greeted by Jack and Franklin. Ianto feels a little silly as a few of the group look up when he starts walking down to them, because somehow he hadn’t expected people to be gathered around the staircase, and he now feels like he’s making an entrance instead of just slipping into the group. But Ianto Jones knows how to make an entrance too, planned or not, so he doesn’t falter in his steps, doesn’t let himself feel out of place. He finds himself being strangely comforted by the idea that in this house  _ he _ belongs whereas these people are just guests.

Jack is one of the last people to glance up, and he visibly stills when his gaze sweeps over Ianto. He almost looks like he’s stopped breathing for a moment, and Ianto feels his own chest tighten with something as yet unnamed, but perhaps not as unrecognisable as he’d like to pretend.

When Jack’s eyes meet Ianto’s, the look in them is dark and hot and Ianto almost does stumble a little. There is the strangest expression on Jack’s face; he looks nearly stunned and maybe even a little overwhelmed, and his eyes are drifting over Ianto’s body again before lifting to stare directly at him once more. There is something intense and near electric about it, and Ianto can’t pull his eyes away even as he continues down the stairs.

By the time he reaches the bottom of the steps, Ianto couldn’t have told you if the room held five people or five thousand, because all he can see is Jack, and all Jack is looking at is him.

Now is not the time or place to start figuring out just what it is that Jack makes him feel though, so after a minute of staring at each other, Ianto manages to break the staring contest by reminding himself that Jack  _ just _ told him, not three hours ago, that they are friends. Nothing more than friends.

“So how do I look?” he asks, giving a little shrug and spreading his arms out a bit to let Jack take in his outfit.

Jack is still looking at him strangely, eyes heavy and full of something that Ianto isn’t quite vain enough to consider awe, but he lets them drift over Ianto’s body to take in the picture once more anyway. When he looks back up, his expression is nearly familiar again, playful and smug, but there is something lingering in the tilt of his lips and the corners of his eyes that makes Ianto flush warmly when Jack leans in to whisper, “You’ll do.”

Jack reaches for his hand, curling their fingers together and letting their palms press hot and firm, and Ianto doesn’t even try to pull away. In the midst of everything, and despite all odds against it, Jack’s touch is steadying and safe, and Ianto wants both of those things very much right in this moment.

“Ready?” Jack murmurs, pulling Ianto gently toward the library that has had its furniture removed to become a large music room, holding most of the guests, patio doors thrown wide to the patio where the party spills out into the garden.

Ianto looks at Jack and decides that whenever he sorts out these new feelings and flutterings, he is not going to run, no matter how out of control they make him feel and no matter what he decides they mean.

“As I’ll ever be,” he answers honestly, smiling when Jack shoots him an infectious honest grin, and they step into the room together.

\-----

Three hours later and Ianto is confident he can say he’s schmoozed for all he’s worth.

It hadn’t taken long for him to be pulled away from the safety of Jack’s side once they’d entered the fray. It seems as the newest member of the Harkness clan (he’d protested the permanence of that label but had been waved off by Elizabeth who insisted that  _ of course _ he was family by now) he’s a curiosity, and everyone wants to meet the boy who’d stolen the heart of the youngest Harkness child.

Ianto had bitten his tongue to keep from quipping that it’d be awfully hard to steal something that didn’t exist and smiled politely instead. Though by the smirk on Jack’s face from across the group, he had a feeling Jack knew exactly what he’d been thinking.

It hadn’t been all that bad though, truthfully. Most of the partygoers were really just gossips pretending to be above such things, and if his particular group of friends had taught Ianto anything, it was how to work a gossip mill. He never shared anything truly incriminating but teased here and there, and gasped and whispered at all the right moments and soon had the room eating out of his hand. It was actually, in a very bizarre way, a little fun. Once he stopped worrying about making a good impression, he’d relaxed into his role and treated the entire thing as a fascinating experiment in the behaviours of the rich and famous.

He and Jack crossed paths once or twice, Jack catching his arm to pull him into a conversation or introduce him to someone and once reaching for Ianto for no reason whatsoever that Ianto could see, just seeming to pull him in to have him close. He’d supposed it was part of the boyfriend act, because that was what boyfriends did, right?

Just like boyfriends watched you across the room when they thought you weren’t looking, staring at you like they’d never really seen you before and were trying to figure you out. Or smiled with fond amusement to themselves when they saw you’d made a group of octogenarians guffaw. Or lifted a champagne glass to you in a toast across the crowd after making a (perfectly fine, if a little suggestive) speech. When River had groaned into Ianto’s shoulder about some of Jack’s more innuendo heavy lines, he’d just patted her on the shoulder.

He shook his head and chuckled softly, handing her back over to Jodie before he moved around to collect some of the abandoned champagne flutes from the bookshelves in the room. He knew it wasn’t his job, that in fact there were people milling around and picking up whose job it actually  _ was _ , but he figured he could use a breather anyway and sneaking off to the kitchen for a minute was as good an excuse as any.

The kitchen is blissfully empty and quiet when he walks in, but it doesn’t last for long.

“Hide me!”

Gray’s frantic voice startles Ianto as he turns from the sink where he’d been setting the empty flutes a moment ago.

“What?” Ianto asks, protesting when Gray ducks down between the kitchen island and the countertop and shoves Ianto in front of him. “Gray, what the hell are you doing?”

“Hiding,” Gray whispers, looking at Ianto like he is being exceptionally dense.

“From what?” Ianto asks, exasperation colouring his tone when Gray pushes at his legs again to put Ianto a little further in front of his hiding spot.

“From River’s crazy brides-people,” Gray groans, peeking around the corner of the cabinets and at the kitchen doorway. “Apparently I slept with one of them back in school, though fuck if I can remember which one, and now that they’re drunk, they’ve all decided they either want a piece of me too or are determined to make me pay for the fact that I never called them back.”

Ianto laughs, which makes Gray smack his leg, but Ianto just kicks him back and keeps grinning.

“It isn’t funny,” Gray grumps, though Ianto can see the hint of a grin underneath.

“Oh come on, it’s a little funny,” Ianto laughs. “Gray Harkness hiding an ex.”

They are all a bit intimidating too, Ianto knows, because they’d glommed on to him the minute RIver had pried him away from Jack, fawning over him and lamenting the fact he was dating Jack. Ianto had smiled and flirted and winked, years of friendship with the girls serving him well and making it easy for him to endear himself to the group.

“Oh god, you have no idea,” Gray moans.

“Come on, Gray; I know you have to be at least a little flattered that your reputation from eight years ago is still impressive enough to proceed you.”

Gray grins a little wider, but his expression turns quickly back to panic when the shrill shouting of women approaches the kitchen. He shoots a pleading look Ianto’s way, scooting further back behind the island. Ianto rolls his eyes fondly and turns just in time to see the group of brides-people, all of whom have obviously been enjoying the champagne to excess, spill into the room.

“Ian-tooooooo!” one of the louder ones (Angie? Lisa?) shouts. “Have you seen Gray anywhere?”

“Can’t say that I have,” Ianto responds nonchalantly, leaning as casually as he can against the countertop to better conceal the boy behind it. “Did you check outside?”

“Yes,” she says. “He wasn’t there; I think he’s hiding from us.”

The group breaks into group-wide tittering then, and (Vangie? Lista?) giggles along before shooting Ianto a wink that is nothing less than saucy. “I’m pretty sure he’s afraid he won’t be able to handle us all.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Ianto teases back, forcing himself not to look down at Gray. “Harkness boys may have many faults, but a lack of confidence is certainly not one of them. Have you checked his bedroom? Maybe he’s just waiting for you all to catch up.”

One of the other girls, a pretty dark-haired woman near the back of the pack, scowls at that and Ianto thinks she must be the one that never got called back all those years ago, but the rest of them break into renewed giggles.

“Back down this corridor, last door on the right,” Ianto tells them. “And if he’s not there, I’d recommend poking around in his drawers anyway. Jack always hides the good stuff with his underwear so you ought to see if that runs in the family.”

It is completely untrue as far as Ianto knows, having never been in Jack’s underwear drawer, but he gets an evil little spike of glee from the thought of turning a pack of drunken brides-people on Gray’s stuff. Plus, if they find anything incriminating, it’ll get back to him this way, and maybe he can use it against Gray to force him into a suit at the actual wedding without an hour’s argument.

“Thanks Ianto, you’re the best!” (Evie? Ellie?) trills, blowing him a kiss and turning the group back out the door. Ianto waves after them, waiting ‘til the coast is clear to kick Gray again.

“You can come out now, they’re gone.”

“Yeah, to  _ my room _ ,” Gray grumbles. “Thanks for that, by the way.”

“You’re welcome,” Ianto grins back smugly. “Hope there’s nothing too embarrassing in your underwear drawer though.”

“Well, you know,” Gray drawls, stepping in close and running a finger under the lapel of Ianto’s blazer, tugging just a little. “If you want, I could arrange a private viewing of that drawer just for you.”

“What is Ianto privately viewing?” River asks, walking into the kitchen with Jodie in tow.

“All my unmentionables, if I can talk him into it,” Gray tells her, winking at Ianto before backing up to hop up and sit on the countertop. “Though, did you know apparently little Jack hides all his most damning items in with his undies?”

“That hasn’t been true since he was in year seven,” River says, waving a dismissive hand at her brother as she moves to the fridge to pull out another bottle of champagne. “I ought to know, since I’m the one that found his dirty magazines there and forced him to switch his hiding places up.”

“I don’t know what’s more disturbing,” Jodie muses, slinging an arm low around River’s waist to pull her in and taking the champagne bottle from her to start twisting off the wire cage around the top. “Thinking about the kind of porn eleven-year-old Jack would have been into or the fact that you were rooting around in your little brother’s underwear drawer.”

“Shut up,” River teases, kissing her on the cheek as she pops the cork from the bottle. “He’d made fun of my prom pictures, and I was looking for revenge.”

“Revenge?” Jack asks, grinning as he, too, sidles into the room. “Who, what and where is all I need to know, and I’m in.”

“We’re talking about  _ you _ , arsehole,” River says, sticking her tongue out at him before taking the champagne from Jodie and swallowing directly from the bottle. “I looked fucking fantastic at prom.”

“Sure,  _ you _ did,” Jack agrees, winking conspiratorially at Ianto and moving in to lean next to him on the counter. “But that unfortunate being you called a date looked like the lovechild of Chewbacca and Captain Kirk.”

“Ah, my brother, the nerd,” Gray teases, reaching over to ruffle at Jack’s hair in the annoying way that older brothers often do. “Don’t think I haven’t seen the Hallowe’en pictures of you both dressing up like Han Solo and Luke Skywalker.” Ianto feels his cheeks heat up in memory.

Jack tosses a kitchen towel at Gray, who just cackles at him. River and Jodie are giggling a little too, passing the alcohol back and forth between them, and Jack looks happy and embarrassed all at once. Ianto can’t stop grinning at the picture they all make, this  _ family _ of them, and when Gray winks at him and Jodie passes the champagne over his way, Ianto realises he is part of the picture too. It is an intoxicating thought all on its own, even without the deep swallow he takes from the bottle.

He passes it to Jack, who is still blushing a bit, and everything feels so  _ easy _ in this moment that Ianto doesn’t even think about leaning in to kiss him on his heated cheek and murmuring, “It’s alright, sweetheart; you know we looked adorable.”

Jack looks a little startled at the contact, mouth dropping open in surprise, but he quickly morphs it into an answering grin.

“We definitely did,” he says, throwing an arm around Ianto’s shoulders and tucking him in against his side. “You know I always preferred Han and Luke together rather than Han with Leia.”

Ianto scrunches his nose playfully and butts his head against Jack’s shoulder gently. “Hmm, it’s really hard not to.”

“I’m pretty sure when it comes to you,  _ everything _ is hard for Jack,” Gray says with an eyebrow wiggle and a leer that has them all rolling their eyes and groaning.

“What?” Gray says all faux-innocence again, snatching the bottle from Jack’s hands and taking several long swallows before finishing his thought. “All I meant was that Ianto seems like he might be a little high maintenance.”

Ianto punches him solidly in the arm for that and steals the bottle again, taking another sip and then holding it up to Jack’s mouth for him to drink. Jack arches an eyebrow but tilts his head back obligingly to swallow. When Ianto pulls the bottle away, Jack runs the back of his hand across his lips, which are shining welty under the kitchen light. Ianto hands the bottle off to River blindly, not able to tear his eyes from Jack’s mouth.

“That’s okay,” Jack says, smiling and staring back at him with that same intense look from the staircase. “I like a challenge.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks as always to my cheerleader temporalsilence and my beta princessoftheworlds :)
> 
> i'm so glad you're all loving gray :3


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end of the engagement party and the next dance class.

The rest of the engagement party goes by smoothly. Elizabeth comes into the kitchen to chase them all back out to socialise, and though the Harkness children put on a show of whining about it, they are all smiling and laughing just a little as they troop back out to their guests. Ianto can’t keep the soft smile from his face or ignore the way the last of his remaining tension seems to have slipped from his shoulders, though whether that is due to the few stolen sips of champagne or the warm moments of belonging in the kitchen, he isn’t quite sure.

It might, possibly - maybe - also have something to do with the fact that Jack doesn’t leave his side for the rest of the night. They circulate lazily around the room together, and every time someone approaches to try and borrow either of them for conversation, Jack casually slips an arm around Ianto’s waist, or grabs his hand, and makes sure they are both pulled along instead. He never quite meets Ianto’s eyes when he does it, which makes Ianto feel affectionately warm, because it is rather endearing sometimes watching Jack care when he so clearly doesn’t quite know how to admit to it.

They may be playing boyfriends tonight, and Ianto is sure that most of the physicality of their interactions at least is grounded entirely in that pretending, but Jack could just as easily act the boyfriend from across the room and yet he’s choosing to keep Ianto close. Ianto is glad that they’d had that - admittedly slightly awkward - conversation in Jack’s room earlier, because it delineates their interactions in his mind into ‘fake boyfriend’ and ‘friend’ so that he isn’t worrying about Jack’s intentions all night, but it doesn’t stop him from enjoying the ‘friend’ part either. He’s counting Jack’s presence next to him in that part.

It’s only when the last of the guests have trickled out the door and Ianto finds himself alone in the entryway with Jack, who is still holding his hand, that the line between those two things starts to feel a little blurred again.

Jack seems to notice their hand-holding at the same time that Ianto does, because his eyes go the tiniest bit wider for a fraction of a second, and he pulls his hand free. Ianto’s fingers curl closed around the sudden emptiness, the phantom press of Jack’s warm palm still tingling across his skin.

He drops his gaze, not wanting to let Jack read in his expression any of those unexpected butterflies that have been flitting around in his stomach all evening and that are now sinking just a bit. When he looks down though, he sees that Jack is already reaching out for him again, as if the pulling away had been an old instinct that perhaps he hadn’t meant to act on. The hand only gets halfway to Ianto before Jack drops it again, but it’s enough of a vulnerability to make Ianto look up once more.

“So…” Jack says, drawing the word out to fill the silence and stuffing his hands into his pockets. (Ianto restrains himself from commenting on how the move completely ruins the line of the trousers, because that seems like the kind of thing just asking for an innuendo).

“So,” Ianto says back and hates that he has the sudden urge to shove his hands into his pockets as well, just to do something with them that  _ isn’t _ reaching for Jack’s. “I, um… I should probably get going.”

“Oh.” Jack looks at him inscrutably for a moment, rocking back on his heels and biting at his lip like he’s considering something. Ianto makes himself look Jack in the eyes, because catching himself staring at Jack’s mouth more than once in a night would not be a good sign at all.

Just when Ianto is thinking that all this silence was perhaps his cue to leave and maybe he’s just hovering awkwardly now, Jack speaks again.

“Or you could, you know… not.”

“Not?” Ianto asks, confused and breathless all at once.

“Go,” Jack clarifies. “You could, um… you could stay?”

Jack probably shouldn’t have had to clarify but Ianto is feeling a little head-rushy.

“Oh.” It’s Ianto’s turn to bite his lip in hesitation, searching Jack’s face for signs of what that offer might mean exactly. On one hand, it isn’t like they haven’t done it before - even if the circumstances had been remarkably different - so it shouldn’t be that big of a deal. On the other hand, the fact that it still feels like it  _ is _ a big deal means it’s also probably not the best idea. This night, ever since he descended the stairs and took Jack’s hand, has felt warm and confusing and wonderful, but all that means is that Ianto needs to be careful. Because they are  _ friends _ , friends who are playing an already complicated game, and adding things like unplanned sleepovers on top of Ianto’s already unplanned emotions, is only going to twist those complications into even tighter knots.

But  _ oh, _ does he want to say yes.

In the end, only a minute later, but long enough to have nearly chewed his lip to shreds in deliberation, it is that want that makes Ianto decide.

“I can’t; my parents are expecting me,” Ianto says, hoping Jack can’t hear the thread of hesitation in his voice.

It’s not even untrue; Glenda  _ is _ waiting up - probably even peeking out the window every fifteen minutes or so if Ianto knows his mother - but he could also probably still call and make an excuse to stay. After all, his parents had said that with Ianto growing up and getting ready to head off into the world, they weren’t going to be trying to limit him from being with whomever he wanted to be with. But the fact that he wants, even a little, to stay here with Jack is scary for Ianto, and so what he wants just a little more is to go home and wake up tomorrow with a clear head and no bed partner so that he can figure this out before he does something he regrets - or something Jack regrets for him.

“Right, yeah, of course,” Jack says hurriedly, face closing off instantly and his body half turning to the front door to open it. Ianto steps toward it just as fast and collides with Jack’s elbow when he pulls the door open into Ianto’s approaching form. Jack’s eyes widen for a moment at the collision, and Ianto sucks in air after the wind is knocked out of him, but then they both start laughing and the tension is broken.

“It’s probably best you leave, anyway,” Jack says with a more familiar teasing lilt as they finally manage to move cohesively through the doorway and start across the drive. “Wouldn’t want your car to turn back into a pumpkin after midnight.”

Ianto rolls his eyes and groans. “I’m not Cinderella.”

“Maybe not,” Jack agrees, smirking widely. “But it is a fitting comparison.”

“So I suppose that makes you the prince with the foot fetish, then?” Ianto asks, arching an eyebrow teasingly.

“No way,” Jack insists, smile maybe a little more severe around the edges. “Like I’d ever be mistaken for the hero.”

“Then, who, pray tell, are you supposed to be?” Ianto asks, playfully hip-checking Jack.

“Why, I’m the villain, of course,” Jack returns, voice full of false-offence. “God, Ianto, it’s like you don’t know me at  _ all _ .”

He’s grinning at Ianto as he says it, bumping back into Ianto more gently than Ianto had done, and for not the first time over their past few encounters, Ianto finds himself a little lost in that smile and those teasing eyes that seem to have a different kind of light about them whenever that are aimed Ianto’s way.

_ Maybe I don’t, but I might want to again, _ Ianto thinks.

What he says is, “Ah of course, how could I have missed the obvious?”

Jack nods regally, as if he is forgiving Ianto of his momentary insanity in considering him a prince. “Good, as long as it’s clear now.”

“Yep, abundantly clear. You are the baddest of the bad, Captain,” Ianto teases.

Jack stumbles a little at the nickname, shooting a quick indecipherable glance at Ianto out the corner of his eye. He looks a little flushed all of a sudden too, and Ianto pretends not to have noticed, too caught up in berating himself for letting that childhood-nickname slip.

By the time they reach Ianto’s car, Jack is composed once more. He turns to face Ianto, blocking Ianto’s path to the driver’s side door and stopping his progress with a brief touch to the shoulder before letting his hand fall away again. He looks like he maybe wants to say something, but doesn’t quite know how.

“Yes?” Ianto asks after a few minutes of nothing. “Did you have something to say or are you just killing time? Because my car isn’t going to  _ actually _ transfigure itself when the clock strikes twelve, you know.”

Jack rolls his eyes, but Ianto’s words seem to have loosened the hold on his tongue. “And here I was just about to thank you for putting up with everything tonight, but instead I think I’ll thank you for reminding me that you are way more bother than a benefit.”

Ianto scowls at him out of habit but breaks into a grin when Jack sticks his tongue out at him and softens the tease with the ridiculous face he pulls.

“More bother than a benefit, huh? Guess I’ll remember that next time you call me last minute about some huge social event. My calendar might become suddenly inexplicably busy for the rest of the summer.”

Jack doesn’t rise to the bait, but he does drop the comical twist of his expression to look at Ianto a bit more sincerely.

“You  _ are _ a bother,” he insists. “But maybe I just don’t mind being bothered quite so much these days.”

“Oh really?” Ianto asks offhandedly, as if it doesn’t matter to him at all what Jack does or does not mind.

“Eh, it’d probably get boring around here without your voice and annoying presence. And I don’t do boring.”

Ianto bites his tongue to keep from pointing out that Jack’s life (which to hear Jack tell it, consisted mainly of glitter parties, drinking, dancing and fun) was far from  _ boring _ before he came back into it, mostly because he knows Jack is trying to be nice. Backhanded compliments they may be, but Ianto figures that’s about the best way they’ve figured out how to talk to each other so far so he’ll take it.

“Well thank  _ you _ for that moving speech about how bothersome I am to you.” Ianto sighs, tilting his lips into enough of a grin to let Jack know he isn’t really mad. “But if you’re done insulting my existence, maybe you could move out of the way? All your same old lame affronts are in danger of putting me to sleep they’re so predictable, and I’d like to make it home first.”

Jack looks at him again, running a hand through his hair and considering. His eyes flicker over Ianto’s shoulder up toward the lighted window of the house before meeting Ianto’s own again.

“Kiss me,” he says abruptly, dropping his hand and stepping in closer.

Ianto stares at him, losing that battle with himself to not fixate on Jack’s mouth more than once in a night. “What?”

“Kiss me,” Jack repeats, as if that makes things any clearer.

Ianto’s tongue swipes out along his own lower lip without permission, and he can’t find anything to say except repeating, “What?”

“My family’s watching from the windows,” Jack says quickly. “So you know… the  _ act _ .”

Ianto starts to turn back toward the house, begins to glance over his shoulder to see if he, too, can spot any peeping Harknesses, but Jack catches his chin in one hand and stills the movement.

“Ianto,” he whispers, stepping in the last little bit until they are standing nearly pressed against each other. “Just kiss me.”

A tiny part of Ianto wants to turn anyway, to check, but the larger part of his mind and body are buzzing at the proximity and heat of Jack in the cooler air of the summer night. Jack is stroking his thumb along Ianto’s lower lip where he’s still holding Ianto’s chin, something heavy and intimate in his gaze. So Ianto gives in and kisses him.

The hand holding him in place slides around to cup his jaw instead, and when he presses in more firmly again Jack’s mouth, Jack brings his other hand up to cradle Ianto’s face between his palms before kissing back.

Jack’s lips are dry and catch a little along the lingering moistness on Ianto’s from where he’d licked them, enough of a pull and drag to shoot little sparks down Ianto’s spine. He steadies himself against Jack’s body, hands reaching out to grab at Jack’s hips, so that he can lean his weight into the next kiss. Jack inhales sharply at the pressure, mouth dropping open just a little in surprise, and Ianto takes the in - sweeping his tongue along that open space and into the wet heat of Jack’s mouth without further invitation or thought.

Jack’s tongue is warm and soft against his own, and he tastes a little like strawberries and champagne from the last round of dessert and drinks at the party. Most of all what Ianto notices is that he tastes  _ familiar _ , and the realisation that he is beginning to not only recognise Jack’s taste but also - if the more frantic note their kissing has taken on is anything to go by - is beginning to seek it out, makes his head spin nearly as much as the kiss itself.

There isn’t so much thought after that though, because as Jack kisses him back more urgently, stroking along Ianto’s tongue in his own mouth before coaxing Ianto to open up under him, Ianto is entirely too busy feeling. He’s pretty sure when Jack sucks at his lower lip, scraping gentle teeth across the swollen flesh, that he might even be too busy feeling to breathe. He can’t help the tiny whimper that escapes him when Jack gives the same treatment to his upper lip too, can’t help the way his hands tighten around Jack’s hips when Jack licks back into his mouth, tongue teasing against Ianto’s own until they are both panting harshly against each other’s lips so as not to have to break away even for air.

Eventually they are forced to part, though Jack doesn’t go far, resting his forehead against Ianto’s for a moment. As his head clears just a little, Ianto knows he is beginning to blush, both from the heat of their recent activities and from his own overwhelmed and confused feelings about said activities. It only deepens when he realises they must have put on quite a show for whoever was spying out the windows, but when he turns to look - dislodging Jack from against him in the process - there are no Harknesses in sight.

By the time he turns again, Jack has already stepped back, putting some distance between them.

“You should get going,” Jack says, voice roughened and a little deeper than before. He glances down at Ianto’s kiss-swollen mouth once more before pulling his gaze back up to Ianto’s eyes.

“Yeah,” Ianto agrees dazedly. He hopes his head stops feeling so spinny soon, or he’ll be lucky to even remember how to start the car.

When he moves forward, Jack steps aside and out of the way, though his hand comes up to touch briefly at Ianto’s back when he passes. He even waits while Ianto climbs into the driver’s seat and lowers the window, hands shoved back in his pockets and a rueful smile on his face.

“So I’ll see you Monday?” Ianto asks as the ignition catches, feeling hesitant to actually begin driving away.

“Yep,” Jack says, looking a little grumpier. “More dance class. Yay.”

“It’s not that bad,” Ianto hedges, though he can’t help laughing at the ‘ _ bitch please _ ’ look Jack levels him with. “Okay, it is that bad, but I have hope for you yet.”

“Well, that makes one of us,” Jack says, drawing another smile from Ianto. “See this is another reason I could never be the prince, tiger. They all dance.”

Ianto hums noncommittal and considers the boy standing in the driveway before him. Even the pulling at his pockets and the end of the night general dishevelment can’t detract from the overall image of Jack, tall and ridiculously dashing in his suit and loosened tie. Maybe not a Disney prince, but perhaps even more appealing for the wicked tilt to his mouth and the mischief in his eyes, all his sharp edges only serving to highlight the underlying good - once you know where to look.

“Maybe not,” Ianto agrees finally, throwing the car into gear and beginning down the drive. Jack looks unsurprised at the statement, though maybe a little disappointed. It fades into honest affection though when Ianto leans out the window to add, “But you stopped being the villain in this story a long time ago.”

\-----

It’s cha-cha week in that stuffy room in Newport, and Ianto isn’t sure he’s going to survive it.

Fortunately Jack seems to be in a much better mood than the last time they were here, but unfortunately he isn’t all that much better of a dancer. He likes the ‘cha cha cha’ part, and has those three little steps and the hip sway down, but the rest is hopeless. At least he’s laughing, which is something, but Ianto is despairing of ever getting him to care enough to actually try.

“Jack, come  _ on _ ,” he groans, pulling his foot out from where it’s got tangled between Jack’s legs. “I’m glad you aren’t biting my head off today, but can you just focus for maybe five minutes here and lead? Or, you know, let me?”

“Why?” Jack says with a shrug. “We both know there’s no way I’m going to learn this in the next three hours, so why bother?”

He’s got a point, though Ianto doesn’t want to admit it. “What about River? I thought the whole reason we were coming to these things was so that you could make her happy dancing with her at the wedding.”

Jack shrugs again, still smiling, and grabs Ianto’s hand to force him into a spin completely out of time with the music and actual steps they are supposed to be practicing. “I somehow doubt that I’m going to be cha-cha-cha-ing with her. I’ll try again next time when we review.”

“Ah, yes, speaking of next time,” Kieran butts in, startling them both with his unseen approach.

Jack uses the hand still holding Ianto’s from the twirl to tug Ianto in closer against him and farther from their teacher. Kieran looks amused but doesn’t comment and keeps his distance from where Ianto is now pulled flush against Jack’s side.

“As I was saying,” he begins again instead, shooting a sly wink Ianto’s way which Ianto mostly tries to ignore. “It seems the studio double-booked the room for next Monday and has asked us to move our class to this Friday evening instead. We are, of course, hoping all our students will be able to come, but if you can’t, we are offering a partial refund. And if only one of you is able to make it, we would be glad to have you and still offer the refund to you both.”

Ianto expects Jack to practically shout with glee at this tailor-made excuse to get out of a lesson, but to his surprise, Jack just tightens the arm around Ianto’s waist and glares at Kieran.

“We’ll be there,” he says, practically growling the words in challenge. “ _ Both _ of us.”

Kieran smiles hugely and winks again at Ianto. “Good, good. I will let you get back to your ah,  _ dancing _ , again then.”

Jack is still glaring and actually turns into Ianto with proper dance form and tries to execute a few of the right steps until Kieran moves away to another couple. Ianto just rolls his eyes and tries to follow with Jack’s slightly improved leading, determined not to feed into whatever macho game Jack and Kieran seem to be playing with each other - especially as more often than not he feels uncomfortably like the prize, even though he’s mostly sure Kieran is just playing along to rile Jack up.

“I’m surprised you agreed to go,” he says after a few minutes, when their steps have devolved back into the mess they were before. “I never took you for the guy with nothing better to do on a Friday night.”

Jack shrugs, which seems to be his chosen form of communication for the evening, and looks at Ianto a little hesitantly. “Yeah well, things change. People change.”

Ianto suddenly feels as if he has stepped out over thin ice, as if any one word might crack through the veneer of their current standing with one another, because those words feel not only strangely loaded, but also undeniably incredibly true.

“What… what does that mean?” he asks, loosening his own dance frame to step in closer so that he can murmur the words, feeling as if anyone intruding on this conversation would somehow be wrong.

Jack looks up but doesn’t move away from the sudden proximity and doesn’t drop Ianto’s hand from his own either. He studies Ianto’s face instead, looking like he’s putting his thoughts in order and choosing what it is he wants to say.

“It means maybe I just don’t feel like going out every single night I can anymore,” he says. “It gets boring.”

“And you don’t do  _ boring _ ,” Ianto supplies, smiling and subconsciously swaying toward Jack just a bit.

“No,” Jack agrees, gaze flitting over Ianto’s face and coming to rest on his mouth. “I don’t.”

Ianto’s lines are blurring again, the proximity and new information making him want to ask ‘ _ So am  _ **_I_ ** _ boring? _ ’ but that feels entirely too bold, and also too coy for a friend to be asking. For a minute he thinks Jack might tell him what he is anyway or maybe push in closer to  _ show _ him, but instead, Jack steps back and releases his hand, eyes looking conflicted and briefly vulnerable before he shutters those emotions and grins smugly instead.

“Besides, during the summer, Fridays are mostly just crowded at the bars, and all the clubs have the best music on weeknights,” he says easily, though he can’t seem to stop his little darting looks from Ianto’s eyes to his mouth.

“Right,” Ianto says, shaking himself of any lingering thoughts about change and smirking back. “Though I think it’s funny you care about the music, considering you can’t dance to save your life.”

“One, you don’t need to dance to enjoy good music,” Jack tells him. “And two, I don’t  _ ballroom _ dance, but believe me that doesn’t mean I can’t  _ dance _ .”

Ianto kind of already knows this, has seen little glimpses of Jack’s range of movement the show Jack and Lisa did at school together and briefly at the horror night that was the gay bar with Jack and Lisa, but something about the way Jack emphasises the words makes Ianto very sure he hasn’t seen even a fifth of what Jack can do.

Suddenly, Ianto is beyond frustrated that they are stuck here doing the goddamn cha-cha.

He doesn’t believe in God, but maybe something is listening because in the next moment, the double doors at the far end are flying open and Gray is striding in with a cocky grin on his face and the fun kind of trouble in his eyes. Jodie steps in a moment later, rolling her eyes at her soon-to-be brother-in-law’s dramatic entrance.

“What the fuck?” Jack mutters, and Ianto has to agree with the sentiment.

“Hey, boys!” Gray calls on the approach, already drawing the eyes of both women and men as he hurries across the room toward them.

“Gray, what the fuck are you doing here?” Jack asks, sounding exceedingly grumpy about the interruption.

“What, I’m not allowed at dance lessons now? And here I thought the whole point of  _ this _ class was inclusivity.”

Jack clenches his jaw but relaxes a little when Ianto puts a hand on his arm and shoots his brother an exasperated look.

“Don’t tell me you got kicked out of the other place,” Ianto says, all too able to imagine a scenario in which Gray got himself escorted out of his own lessons. Though it doesn’t explain Jodie’s presence, or the way she’s currently conversing in hushed tones with Jenny and Kieran, a somber look on her face.

“Nah, those lessons may be boring as fuck, but I’m not about to risk River’s wrath by getting myself forcibly removed,” Gray says with a grin, darting a look back over his shoulder at Jodie before leaning in to whisper conspiratorially, “We came to bust you out.”

“What?” Ianto whispers back, confusion settling over him. Jenny and Kieran are now flanking Jodie and walking toward their little group, and he feels like he’s about to get sent to the headmaster’s office for some reason.

“It’s a jailbreak,” Gray says gleefully, punching Jack lightly in the arm. “Come on Jack, you have to remember when we used to do this back in the day to get you out of flute lessons.”

“You took flute lessons?” Ianto asks, surprise written over his features when he turns to consider Jack as if trying to process this new information.

Jack looks a little embarrassed but doesn’t deny it. “I wasn’t all that good.”

“Don’t let him fool you,” Gray insists, looking almost proud. “He was actually pretty decent. Probably could have gone somewhere with it if I hadn’t snuck him out of so many practices.”

Jack shrugs but is smiling at Gray again now clearly happy at the praise and caught up in fond memories. “It was way more fun going to play paintball anyway,” he says, making Gray’s grin widen.

They both drop their smiles simultaneously when the dance instructors approach, schooling their expressions gravely, and Ianto feels like he’s just stepped into the middle of a play for which he never got the script, let alone the chance to learn his lines. Still, it is fascinating to get a glimpse of their brotherhood in action, the way they know each other’s thoughts and moves without communication at times, and Ianto thinks he ought to tell Gray someday that whatever it is he messed up in the past, Jack still loves him, is still so clearly and happily his little brother through and through, because Ianto can see it in every nuance of this moment. The brothers share a flash of a smile before turning toward Jenny, Kieran and Jodie. Ianto just tries to look blank, unsure of what is unfolding around him.

“Well, hello gorgeous,” Gray whistles when he gets his first proper look at Kieran, making Jack scowl again. Kieran just looks amused.

“Brothers?” he asks Ianto, gesturing between the Harkness boys with a smile.

Ianto nods and rolls his eyes, only managing to hold on to an exasperated little sigh as Kieran’s presence seems to once again flip some unseen switch in Jack and make the boy press in closer to his side. It only gets worse when Gray looks between the three of them at the exchange and then turns his lips up into a wolf-like grin.

“Well, gosh, sweetheart,” he teases Ianto. “Seems you’re rather popular around here, too, hmm? And here I thought I was the only one threatening Jack’s territory.”

Jack glowers but doesn’t move away from Ianto even an inch. Kieran is chuckling, which only makes Jack split the dark look between them both. Jodie sighs heavily, shooting Gray and Jack a pointed look that goes largely ignored.

“As I was telling your instructors,” Jodie interrupts when the look fails to get the boys in line. “Franklin called to tell us there has been a bit of a snafu with the wedding party’s tuxes, and we are all needed in for an emergency fitting tonight.”

Ianto is so distracted by Jack’s increasingly tight grip on him and Gray’s smug smirking that he nearly ruins it all by saying, “But I’m not in the wedding party.”

He bites his tongue at the last minute, and Jodie gives him a tiny nod of approval for catching on. Jack and Gray, however, seem to have forgotten the game they are playing entirely in order to continue smirking and glaring at each other in alternating measures, and it would actually be kind of funny to watch if they weren’t all about to be caught in a lie if they didn’t get with the programme.

“Jack,” Ianto hisses, poking at his side. Jack just squeezes him in closer and continues his staring match. Ianto pokes him again and then has an idea. “Captain,” he murmurs, leaning in close to Jack’s ear. “Don’t you think we need to go meet your father for the tux fitting?”

The nickname works, making Jack’s gaze flicker down to Ianto’s face, eyes full of something, and he stares for a moment before shaking himself from his thoughts and catching on.

“Right, tuxes. We should go do that.”

Gray is looking at them both appraisingly again but seems to be more aware of his role once again and adds, “Yeah, sorry to pull them out of class like this, but you can’t have the wedding party walking down the aisle without trousers on. Well, I mean you  _ could _ , and in fact that sounds like the kind of wedding I’d RSVP to any day but…”

“Gray,” Ianto grits out. “The point?”

“Oh, right. What I mean is there isn’t really any help for it, so I’m sure you understand that we’ll have to go.”

Jenny nods sympathetically, eating up every word. Kieran looks amused still but doesn’t argue and gestures them toward the door.

“Of course, we understand,” he says. “Sometimes these things happen.”

Gray clips him on the shoulder and gives him one more inappropriately direct once over before striding back off toward the hallway. Jodie mutters a ‘ _ thank you for being so understanding _ ’ before pushing Jack and Ianto ahead of her and steering them all toward the door.

“We’ll see you Friday,” Kieran calls after them, and Ianto waves halfheartedly back before he is yanked into the hallway by three separate sets of arms.

“Jeez, I thought you said you guys used to do this all the time,” Ianto complains, pulling away from the group to straighten his shirt and begin marching toward the stairs. “I don’t know how you ever got out of lessons with those skills. If Jodie hadn’t at least had her head on straight, we never would have made it out at all.”

Gray just waves him off with a grin, and Jack pushes his brother into the hall wall with a smile for Ianto of his own. “Yeah, well, we’re out of practice.”

When they reach the street, Ianto realises that they may have made their escape but he still has no idea what it is they are escaping  _ to _ . He hopes it isn’t paintball, because he’s really not dressed for that.

“So where are we going now?” he asks as they turn and begin walking as a group toward the car park.

“Drinking,” Gray says without preamble, slinging an arm around Jodie’s shoulders. “Jodie hasn’t been out since she and RIver got back for the summer, so it’s overdue. We figured maybe you two would be up for making it a night out.”

“You know as I said before you dragged me out for the evening, I’d be okay with a night  _ in _ too,” Jodie says drily.

“And that, my friend, is exactly why you need me in your life,” Gray insists solemnly. “Otherwise you’d spend every night in with my sister and never have any fun at all.”

“Oh believe me, we have  _ plenty _ of fun,” Jodie says archly, making Gray and Jack both reach up to smack her in the shoulder.

“Not cool,” Jack insists through a grin.

“Yep, doesn’t matter if you’re marrying her, she’s still my little sister,” Gray adds.

Jodie just gives Ianto a ‘ _ see what you’re getting yourself into? _ ’ look, but she’s smiling as well, though Ianto doesn’t really need to be told that getting involved with the Harknesses is both ridiculous and completely worth it.

“Well as fun as that sounds, I’m not sure how you expect to get me into a bar,” Ianto says once they’ve all stopped next to Jack’s car on the first floor of the car park. “Jack may be eighteen now, but I’ve still got a few weeks.”

Ianto remembers the night Jack took he and Lisa to a gay bar and got them fake IDs. He’s surprisingly less bothered by the reminder of their less-illustrious beginnings than he once might have been. The part that stings, just a little, is the part where Jack had always wanted Lisa. More disturbing, it isn’t the thought of  _ Lisa _ that hurts in the moment but the thought of  _ Jack _ wanting her that does.

Gray grins bright and cheerful before pulling out his wallet and extracting a slim plastic card, tucking it into the front pocket of Ianto’s jeans and letting his fingers linger for just a minute before pulling them away when Ianto shoves at him with a smile and eye roll. Jack looks less than amused.

“We’re going to Grady’s,” Jodie says, pulling Jack from what is rapidly becoming a full-on moody pout. “You know how to get there?”

“Yeah,” Jack grumbles. “I know how to get there.”

“Cool,” Gray says with a wink for Ianto and smirk for his brother. “We’ll see you there then.”

Jodie tugs him away, laughing again when Gray starts to sing loudly and completely off-key just to hear his own voice echo in the underground, and Ianto smiles fondly after them before turning back to the car. Jack still looks unhappy, and Ianto sighs as he slides into the passenger seat. He’s determined to ignore the tension for as long as possible in the hopes that Jack will get over the funk and smile again without asking questions (Ianto really doesn’t want to have to explain why his feelings are stupidly hurt over a crush Jack had eight months ago, isn’t sure he even  _ has _ an explanation), so he pulls out the ID from his pocket to examine it instead of looking over Jack’s way.

The license looks completely authentic. There is no smearing in the ink, the colouring is spot-on, and even the holograms look right. Most surprising is the photograph is of Ianto himself and looks exactly the same as his actual driver’s license picture. Honestly if it weren’t for the fact that the numbers are one digit off and the address is different, (that and Ianto  _ knows _ he wasn’t born in 2001), he’d think it was an actual license. Which, now that he’s thinking about it…

“Oh my god, this thing is real, isn’t it?” he asks, looking at Jack with a stunned expression. Jack shrugs. He hasn’t even started the car yet and has been sulking in the driver’s seat.

“How- what… Jack!” he nearly shouts. “How the hell did your brother get me a REAL fake license? Do you have any idea how illegal this is?”

“Actually, according to the Driving and Vehicle Licensing Agency records, it’s probably completely legal,” Jack drawls. “If Gray did for you what he did for me once, then there are now two Ianto Joneses registered in Cardiff. One of you just happens to be eighteen.”

“How though?” Ianto asks, flipping the license in his hands a few times in awe. Now that the initial shock has worn off, he’s mostly curious (okay, and still a little nervous if he’s being honest).

“Pretty sure he’s slept with someone in the DVLA,” Jack mutters. “And apparently every person in the  _ universe _ is so desperate to fuck my brother, they’ll do anyhing for him.”

Ianto ignores the petulant tone in favour of holding the card up to the light. He doesn’t know quite why he is so fascinated with it, but he is.

“What if we get caught?”

“We won’t get caught,” Jack says, finally starting the car.

Ianto can’t shake the nerves completely though, fidgeting with the card in his hands until Jack reaches over and plucks it away.

“Calm down,” he sighs. “Getting caught with  _ any _ kind of fake ID would be bad, and don’t you think there’s a bigger risk using crappy ones?”

“Yeah, but this is  _ real _ , Jack,” Ianto says, so caught up in worst case scenarios he doesn’t even notice the way Jack is still looking at him. “That’s got to be more illegal.”

“For the person that made them, maybe,” Jack says, once he’s pulled his eyes away. “Which isn’t any of us. Believe me, I know how scandal works; there’s always someone better to blame. And we  _ aren’t _ going to get caught; all we’re doing is going for a few drinks.”

Ianto finally relents, because his only other option is to refuse to use the thing and make Jack take him home, and he actually doesn’t want to do that. In fact, once he’s surrendered to the idea of being a little bad, it’s rather intoxicating, and he remembers the unexpected rush of nerves and excitement he’d got so many months ago when he’d agreed to go out to that bar with Lisa and Jack.

Jack seems to sense the victory, because he’s finally grinning again, though it dims a bit when he taps the ID in his hands against the steering wheel a few times before tossing it back into Ianto’s lap.

“I would have asked him to make you one, you know,” he says, eyes firmly fixed on the street ahead.

“What?”

“Gray. I would have asked him to make you a decent one if I knew we were going out again, Just because he got around to it first doesn’t mean I don’t think you’re worth it or whatever.”

“Is this your way of telling me I’m quality?” Ianto teases, fluttering his eyelashes exaggeratedly in Jack’s direction until Jack snorts and pushes his face away.

“No, this is my way of telling you that you don’t have to be inordinately grateful to him for it. His ego is big enough as it is.”

“Believe it or not, I’m  _ not _ one of those people who’s desperate to fuck your brother,” Ianto says sarcastically but sincerely.

“Didn’t say you were,” Jack insists, though he looks slightly mollified.

They drive in silence for a little longer, but when they pull up to the curb outside of what looks to Ianto like a pub, Jack still clearly has something on his mind. He stares out the windshield and waves shortly when they spot Gray and Jodie at a high table in front of one of the bar’s windows before sighing heavily again and drumming his fingers against the wheel.

“We don’t have to go in,” Ianto says slowly, unsure of exactly what it is that’s making Jack hesitate. When he gets no response, he tries again, “Or I can take the car and make my excuses, if you’d rather just have a night out with them on your own.”

He hates having to offer it, mostly because it makes him think of the way his feelings have bruised every time Jack has ditched him to go out and he doesn’t really like to think about ‘feelings’ and ‘Jack’ at the same time. But he offers anyway, because if that’s what is bothering Jack - having to share a night out with his siblings with Ianto - well, Ianto certainly isn’t going to force his company on them.

He feels a little better when Jack looks at him like he’s crazy.

“What the fuck are you talking about, tiger?”

“I don’t know,” Ianto huffs, a little embarrassed but still not really understanding what’s going through Jack’s head. “You just seem less than thrilled to be here with me, and I don’t want to get in the way of you having a good night.”

Jack rolls his eyes and turns to stare back out the window at the bar. “The only thing getting in the way of me having a good night is the thought of sitting in there playing darts and drinking cheap beer while Gray flirts with everything that moves. Including my boyfriend.”

Ianto doesn’t think now is the time to argue semantics about the ‘boyfriend’ title.

“Don’t get me wrong, I like hanging out with my brother, I do. It’s just tonight I was expecting it to be just me and y-... Well, tonight I wasn’t expecting him is all,” Jack finishes lamely, still avoiding eye contact.

“So let’s ditch him.”

That gets Jack’s attention, has him tilting against the headrest to look at Ianto in disbelief. “What?”

“Let’s just ditch him,” Ianto repeats more firmly, running with the idea now that it’s out there, “He’s got Jodie; it’s not like he’ll be left all alone. So let’s leave the two of them here and go do something else.”

“You’re serious,” Jack says with a surprised little smile. “You’re actually offering to ditch my brother and go do God knows what with me?”

“Well, maybe not God knows what,” Ianto amends teasingly. “I  _ do _ know about some of your less flattering qualities after all. But yes, I’m not just offering, I’m insisting; I want to go do something else. With you.”

Jack is grinning at him fully now, and Ianto can practically see the wheels turning and plans being made, but just as Jack’s eyes light up as if he’s thought of the perfect thing, he deflates all over again.

“Nice idea, tiger, but there’s no way Gray’s going to let us be. He’s seen us now, if we leave, his curiosity is going to get the better of him, and he’s going to follow us just to see where we go.”

Truthfully, Gray is already staring at them shrewdly through the window. As Ianto watches, he leans over and says something to Jodie, who glances their way as well before letting out an obvious sigh and pulling out her wallet.

“See,” Jack says, lifting his hand in gesture. “He’s already sure something’s up and in another minute he’ll be out here to drag us inside or follow us to hell and back rather than be ditched.”

Ianto thinks quickly, unwilling to give up quite yet. He wants to know what it was that made Jack light up a minute ago and if that means getting Gray to stay put then by God he’ll do just that.

“Give me his number,” he says suddenly, pulling his phone from his pocket and opening a new text window.

“What? No!” Jack says, looking disgruntled again.

“Jack, just give it to me,” Ianto huffs already starting to type out a message. When Jack remains tight-lipped, he looks up with the most sincere eyes he can muster. “Trust me, please?”

Jack looks like he’s going to argue but in the end just sighs and recites the number to Ianto who plugs it in and hits send. A few seconds later, they can see through the window as Gray pauses in his rise from his seat to pull out his own phone and look down at the screen. After a moment he throws his head back and laughs, handing the phone over to Jodie with a grin and sends them a thumbs up and a salute through the window before sitting back down and starting to nurse his beer once more.

“There, now we can go,” Ianto says smugly. “He won’t be following us.”

“What the hell did you say to him?” Jack asks, though he’s already pulling out of the parking spot and back onto the street, clearly unwilling to waste the opportunity.

“I said that dance class made me horny, so we were going to go find some place to fuck instead.”

Jack nearly rear-ends the car in front of them before slamming on the brakes at Ianto’s blasé statement. When they’ve stopped at a light without crashing into anything in the process, he turns a wide-eyed, slightly darkened, stare in Ianto’s direction, lips parted just a little as he inhales.

“What?” Ianto asks, all innocence. “I couldn’t exactly say it made  _ you _ horny, because everyone knows you hate dance class.”

Jack gapes at him for another second before he’s laughing, and then Ianto is laughing too, and then the light turns green and Jack is trying to pull himself together and drive again.

“So are we?” Jack asks with a sly grin, a few minutes later, after taking a turn to send them further into town.

“Are we what? Going to fuck?” Ianto responds drily. “No, no, we are not.”

“Damn,” Jack says, snapping his fingers and grinning. “Guess we’ll just have to stick with my plan then.”

“And what’s that?” Ianto asks, curious and maybe a little nervous again.

“Well,  _ sweetheart _ ,” Jack says, affecting a Gray-esque tone on the nickname. “I wanna take you to a gay bar.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks as always to my cheerleader temporalsilence and my beta princessoftheworlds
> 
> this finishes on a bit of a cliffhanger but ;)


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack and Ianto's adventures at the gay bar...

They park in another structure a few roads from where Jack says their destination lies, but once they hit the pavement, Ianto can already feel the energy buzzing around them. He can’t help but look around in a bit of wide-eyed wonder at the number of people he sees like them, men mostly, who are very clearly together and very clearly out for a night on the town. Ianto feels a little bit like Justin from the first series of Queer As Folk he watched with Tosh last year, a naive little boy all at once caught up in and enamoured with the world of men.

“Cut out the Bambi eyes, would you?” Jack murmurs. “You look like fresh meat enough as it is.”

Ianto tries to dull his expression, but he’s just never really seen this kind of thing before. He’s honestly feeling a little upset that he’s been so near what feels to him like a gay mecca all these years and somehow never went. Objectively he knows it’s no London, but even this relatively small grouping makes him feel suddenly like crying just for knowing he isn’t as alone as he’s always felt.

He doesn’t, because Jack would definitely tease him and possibly abandon him out of secondhand embarrassment, but he knows his eyes are a little shinier nonetheless. He wonders if this is why Jack really goes out, if it is truly all about the sex or if it is as much about not feeling like such an outcast in your own day-to-day life. When Jack nudges him and nods subtly at a very hot university age guy in nothing but some gold short-shorts with a leer, he decides it’s still probably about the sex, for Jack at least.

“Just stick close to me, okay?” Jack says, slipping an arm around Ianto’s waist again in a move that is becoming so familiar Ianto doesn’t even startle. “It’s not like you’re in danger or anything, but I’d just rather keep you in sight your first time out.”

“Sure,” Ianto says faintly, stepping further into Jack’s touch. He doesn’t feel unsafe per se, but it’s still overwhelming, and as is usual of late, Jack’s presence makes him feel grounded even in the out-of-control.

They queue up in the line snaking out the door and down the block, but things seem to be moving relatively fast. Ianto has a brief moment of panic when they’re about four groups back from the front, suddenly very aware of his comparatively conservative outfit and illogically worried that he might be turned away. It’s not about self-confidence; in his everyday life Ianto  _ knows _ he looks good, but he’s never been judged so blatantly before based on sex appeal alone.

The fear intensifies when the people in front of them actually  _ are _ turned away, but then they are at the door and Jack is winking at the bouncer and handing over their IDs, and then they are inside.

It is nothing like the last place Jack took him.

That’s the first thing that goes through Ianto’s mind, and the second thing as well, and when he can’t seem to stop the loop of that one inane realisation (mostly because he’s pretty sure his brain is short-circuiting just a little), he repeats it out loud to Jack who laughs hard enough to be heard over the music and hugs his waist fondly.

“No, tiger, it is definitely  _ nothing _ like that,” he teases, voice low and close to Ianto’s ear. He releases his grip around Ianto after one more squeeze and tangles their fingers together instead. “C’mon, I’ll buy you a drink.”

They wind their way through the crowd, and Ianto can’t stop his eyes from tracking over everything. It’s a good thing Jack has a strong grip on his hand and is leading where they need to go or he’d be swept away in the mass of people immediately. There are lights strobing and music throbbing and so many people, so many  _ men _ , in various states of undress dancing and moving together. Ianto feels a little like he’s in a fever dream, but Jack is still holding his hand so he lets himself surrender to it.

Jack elbows his way up to the crowded bar, tugging Ianto along behind until they are both wedged up against the wood with the press of bodies all around them.

“What do you want?” Jack asks, leaning in close again to be heard over the surrounding laughter, conversation, and shouted drink orders.

Ianto looks helplessly above the bar for a menu or  _ something _ , because it’s not like he’s got a go-to cocktail memorised or anything. But of course there is nothing and people are pushing impatiently at them trying to get to the bar themselves, so he just shrugs. Jack rolls his eyes and gives Ianto a look clearly designed to let him know that Jack thinks he is just as lame as he already feels, but he squeezes Ianto’s hand at the same time and smiles a little too. Ianto still stomps on his foot, though that just makes Jack’s smile bigger before he turns to the bartender to order for them both.

He can’t hear exactly what Jack asks for over the surrounding din, but from the evil glint in Jack’s eyes when he tugs Ianto a little further down the bar to where it is less crowded to wait for their drinks, Ianto has a feeling he’s been ordered something either vile or embarrassing. He’s hoping for the latter and kind of even hoping that maybe it’ll just be another Shirley Temple. He knows that Jack would only order that to tease him, but the music and people and newness of it all is a little overwhelming, and he’s frankly sort of nervous about really drinking alcohol again for pretty much the first time in 3 years in a setting like this.

When their drinks are slid across the bar, a cider bottle and a tall glass containing something that is definitely  _ not _ a Shirley Temple, some of his wariness must show on his face because Jack rolls his eyes again and pulls him in closer so that he can murmur in Ianto’s ear, “Relax, tiger; I won’t let anything bad happen. It’s okay to let loose a little once in a while.”

Ianto takes a shaky breath, reminds himself that even if he feels like a complete wimp, he is still in fact Ianto Jones and therefore capable of conquering any challenge - even dance music - and then lifts the glass to clink it again Jack’s proffered bottle. Jack grins at him and watches as he takes a first tentative sip. Ianto’s eyes widen as the not-nearly-as-disgusting-as-he-was-expecting taste hits his tongue. Jack clearly noticed as his smile turns smug around the edges before he takes a long pull of his own cider. Ianto absolutely does not watch the way his throat moves as he swallows. Absolutely not.

He covers up his ogling by taking another hasty gulp of the mystery drink and finds it is even better the second time around.

“What is this?” he asks, taking another long drink that drains nearly a third of the glass. It’s kind of sweet but mostly just really really good, and the underlying notes of alcohol seem so muted that he’s sure Jack must have ordered his drink made light or something.

“Long Island Iced Tea,” Jack says. “And you might want to slow down a bit there, tiger; it’s kinda strong.”

Ianto rolls his eyes, sure Jack must be teasing him for being a lightweight, and takes another deep drink. His stomach maybe feels a little warm, but that’s probably just from the surrounding press of bodies and lights.

“Seriously Ianto,” Jack says with a laugh, catching his arm to keep him from draining the rest of the glass in one go. “There’s like five different kinds of alcohol in there. You really don’t need to chug it.”

“Doesn’t taste like it,” Ianto responds warily, though he’s re-examining the liquid as if he might be able to separate the booze from the rest just by staring at it.

“Of course it doesn’t  _ taste _ like it; that’s why I ordered it for you. I figured it was this or a fucking vodka martini or something, what with the way you grimaced through that finger of whiskey you had at the resort and the fact that I somehow doubt you’re a cider person.”

“A vodka martini?” Ianto asks with renewed interest. It may be a giant cliche, but he’s kind of always wanted to try one of those.

“No. No way,” Jack insists, lifting his cider to his lips as if he needs to drink away even the thought. “We may be friends now, but there is no way I am ordering one for you. They’re gross. Long Islands are what you get.”

“I could find out for myself, you know,” Ianto grumps, though admittedly a lot of the appeal would disappear if Jack was teasing him the whole time.

Jack just smirks and taps his bottle against Ianto’s glass, “Just drink it, tiger. You already admitted to liking it.”

Ianto can’t really argue with that, and besides he’s starting to maybe feel, just a tiny little bit, those five different kinds of alcohol Jack warned him about so he finishes the drink off with a flourish and then sticks his tongue out at Jack.

“You want another one?” Jack asks, already turning to try and signal the bartender even as Ianto nods. “You probably shouldn’t have more than two or at least switch over to something lighter after, but the night is young yet so one more shouldn’t hurt. Well, tomorrow maybe.”

Ianto scoffs but is secretly remembering puking the one and only time he got drunk, so he promises himself that after this one he’ll take a break. Jack hands over the glass and watches with amusement as Ianto takes a smaller sip this time.

They drink in companionable silence for a few minutes. Ianto is soaking in the surrounding atmosphere, eyes darting everywhere trying to watch everything, while Jack mostly watches  _ him _ . It would maybe make him a little uncomfortable, the way Jack is studying him so intently, but the second drink is going down even easier than the first and so he doesn’t mind it quite so much. When Jack finishes his cider, he pushes the bottle across the bar and takes Ianto’s nearly empty glass to set it aside as well.

“Let’s dance.”

Ianto can definitely feel the alcohol hitting his bloodstream but one glance at the dance floor and he’s not sure his inhibitions are feeling up to it quite yet. This isn’t like the last bar he went to, no fun goofing off with his girlfriend doing ridiculous twirls just to make Lisa smile. This is serious business dancing, a writhing mass of bodies moving in time, and even though Ianto is well aware of what his hips can do, he’s not so sure he’s ready to share that talent with the world yet.

“Don’t you want another cider or something?” he asks, stalling for time.

“Nope,” Jack says easily. “I want to dance.”

“But…”

“Ianto.” Jack sighs. “If you don’t want to dance, just say so.”

“No, that’s not it,” Ianto insists, because he  _ does _ want to, he just maybe wants to take another minute to steel his courage and loosen his body. “I just thought you’d want another drink first is all.”

“And normally maybe I would,” Jack concedes. “But I’m not drinking anymore tonight.”

“What? Why?” Ianto feels both surprised and perhaps a tiny bit apprehensive, as if maybe Jack has just been setting him up to get drunk and then gather blackmail material on him or something.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Jack huffs when Ianto gives him a suspicious glare. “I didn’t make you down those drinks, and I’m not trying to liquor you up for nefarious purposes. Jesus, give me some credit.”

Ianto sniffs haughtily at that, because he doesn’t want to admit it but Jack is right - he  _ didn’t _ make Ianto drink so much so fast, and in fact warned him about just how strong said drinks were.

“Well, you still should have told me,” he insists.

“That what? That I was going to just have one cider so that I could make sure I was sober enough to drive us home safely later? That I was planning to forgo my own drunken amusement so that I could watch out for you tonight and make sure you got to have a good time without having to worry about anything? Is that what I should have told you, because I wasn’t aware that being a nice guy required explicit statements beforehand.”

_ Oh _ . Ianto had not been expecting that, and he feels bad both for assuming and for truthfully never having considered that Jack might’ve had his best interests at heart. If they are really friends though - or whatever it is they actually are that seems to be a weird mix of annoyance and friendship, stomach churning butterflies and tingling nerves and aching want ( _ fuck he’s feeling those drinks _ ) - he shouldn’t still always be thinking the worst.

“I’m sorry,” he says softly, touching at the exposed skin of Jack’s wrist gently in apology. “I didn’t mean to imply or assume.”

“Whatever,” Jack says looking both fond and exasperated, though he catches Ianto’s hand up in his again which Ianto figures means apology accepted.

They get caught up in that staring thing they sometimes do then, and when Ianto starts to feel overly warm, he can’t tell if it’s the drinks or Jack’s eyes on him that is making him heat up from the inside out. He’s just about to suggest dancing himself, if for no other reason than to keep from doing something idiotic like think about finding out if cider tastes any better on Jack’s tongue than it ever has on its own, when the moment is broken by another voice.

“Jack!”

The call comes from about halfway down the bar and pulls their attention easily enough. Ianto isn’t sure why he’s surprised that someone has recognised Jack here, but he is surprised by the little spike of jealousy in his gut when he sees two relatively attractive guys walking up with twin grins.

“Shit,” Jack mutters under his breath, stepping imperceptibly closer to Ianto as he watches them approach.

“What’s wrong?” Ianto murmurs, trying to keep a smile on his face to match the answering smiles coming his way.

“Nothing, just fucking Mark,” Jack says, tilting his chin toward the guy in the lead who has a head of artfully tousled dark hair and a predatory tilt to his grin. Ianto feels a hand settle lightly possessive at his waist and wonders just how much fucking Mark is doing to inspire that kind of reaction from twenty feet away. From the way his eyes are eating up first Jack and then Ianto, Ianto thinks he’s probably doing a fair amount.

“Jack,” the boy repeats when he finally reaches them. “Long time no see.”

“It’s been two weeks, Mark,” Jack says rolling his eyes and pulling Ianto marginally closer to his body.

“My point exactly,” Mark says with a grin. “Though I suppose I can forgive you if  _ this _ is why you’ve been too busy to return my texts.”

His eyes, dark and wicked, are scanning over Ianto’s body again as he says it, and Ianto has never felt more indignant about being referred to as a  _ this _ before. Not that he’s sure he has been referred to that way ever, but the alcohol and irrational jealousy are clouding his thought processes just a bit.

Jack just ignores the words, peering around Mark at the other boy he’s towed along, another dark-haired dark-eyed boy around an inch shorter than Ianto who has a soft, young round face.

“Hey, Tommy,” Jack says and Tommy honest-to-god blushes. Ianto maybe would have found that endearing if it didn’t make him feel like growling.

“Aren’t you going to introduce us to your, ah,  _ date _ ?” Mark interrupts, giving Ianto another once-over.

Jack looks like the very last thing he wants to do is introduce Ianto, and sober Ianto might have recognised all the nuances in that hesitance as having more to do with Mark than it does with him. But he’s pretty sure he’s tipsy now and all he feels is slighted, as if maybe Jack is embarrassed to be here with him (even with all signs to the contrary), so he sticks his hand out.

“Ianto. I’m Jack’s…” he trails off, realising he was going to introduce himself as the boyfriend. He isn’t though, not here with no witnesses, and the way that Tommy is staring at Jack still and the intimate familiarity that Mark’s own gaze seems to suggest make Ianto feel stupid for his almost-mistake so he bites his tongue.

“Yes, I can see you’re  _ Jack’s _ .” Mark grins. He leans in closer then, and Ianto can smell the astringent note of cheap vodka on his breath. “Though maybe we can change that by the end of the night, hmm?”

Ianto is too stunned by the blatant suggestion in Mark’s tone to respond, but Jack does it for him.

“Knock it off, Mark; he isn’t interested.”

Mark hums thoughtfully, taking in Ianto’s wide-eyed glassy stare, before turning the leer back up a notch and smirking smugly at Jack instead. “Guess we’ll see. Can’t blame a guy for trying though, right? After all, anything that can keep your attention for more than twenty minutes must be awfully good at  _ something _ . Even I only kept you distracted for an hour or two, and we both know I’m  _ excellent _ .”

The way he curls his tongue around the words makes Ianto more than sure he means it sexually. It would probably bother him more, that this strange boy is thinking about what Ianto might have to offer in the bedroom so blatantly, but he’s too busy being bothered by the fact that Mark seems to be intimately acquainted with what  _ Jack _ has to offer in the bedroom instead.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Jack says, a cruel edge to his voice that Ianto realises he hasn’t truly heard in weeks. “You were simply  _ there _ . And also months ago.”

Ianto is pretty sure that last was added on for his benefit, though he’s not sure what is more confusing - that knowing Mark wasn’t one of Jack’s most recent conquests makes him feel better, or that Jack somehow wanted Ianto to  _ know _ that Mark wasn’t anything recent.

“Hmm, well maybe that was for the best,” Mark says without missing a beat, his smile turning as sharp-edged as Jack’s tone. “From what I’ve heard you haven’t exactly been up to standard more recently yourself.”

“Mark,” Tommy hisses, finally speaking up in a voice just as soft as his face. “Be nice.”

“Aw, come on, Thomas,” Mark smirks. “You’ve heard all the gossip too, and we’re all friends here. If Jack is having trouble with his  _ follow through _ , the least we can do is offer to help.”

“What?” Ianto knows he probably shouldn’t be saying anything at all, should just ignore Mark instead of feeding into whatever ego contest he seems to have going with Jack, but his filter seems to be fading and he is so completely thrown by the conversation. Jack stiffens behind him, and Ianto leans back subconsciously into him, trying to offer touch as reassurance, though for what he still doesn’t know.

“Well, not to kiss and tell,” Mark says, ignoring the way Tommy is poking him in his side. “Though I suppose  _ I _ wasn’t the one doing the kissing, and come to think of it there’s not generally a lot of  _ kissing _ involved where Jack is concerned…”

“Wait,  _ what _ ?” Ianto interrupts, ignoring the way Jack is tensing behind him.

“Jack doesn’t kiss,” Mark clarifies. “He’s like one of those hookers that’ll blow you without knowing your name but won’t kiss you even for an extra fifty. Too intimate or whatever.” He gives Ianto a more shred look then and adds, “Or maybe that’s changed…”

That must get some sort of reaction from Jack because Mark looks positively delighted, and Ianto feels the arm at his waist tighten.

“Fuck off, Mark,” Jack hisses. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Mark is grinning now at having obviously struck a nerve, and Tommy is looking nervous beside him. Ianto can feel Jack tensing behind him too, ready for a fight, and you know what? No. They are supposed to be having fun tonight, they ditched Gray and Jodie already and Ianto actually  _ likes _ them, so he has no qualms about ditching these two as well.

“You know what? I think I feel like dancing now,” he says, shooting his iciest glare Mark’s way before turning in Jack’s hold to look at him. “Let’s go dance, okay?”

Jack’s jaw is still tight, and for a minute Ianto thinks he’s going to refuse, going to stay here and trade verbal barbs instead, but then he exhales and looks at Ianto. “Sure tiger, whatever you want.”

Ianto gives one more glare to a rather stunned-looking Mark and Tommy before letting Jack pull him toward the crowded floor and losing them from sight.

“Some friends you’ve got there,” he shouts sarcastically, the dance beat pulsing louder and louder the closer they get to the DJ table.

“Not exactly friends,” Jack shouts back, before rolling his eyes and pulling Ianto in closer so he can speak into his ear instead of fighting the music in addition to the crowd they are still moving through. “Mark is someone I met at the beginning of the year,” he explains.

“The ‘love of your life’?” Ianto teases, thinking back to that first conversation in the coffee shop so many months ago.

“Hardly,” Jack says. “And please don’t tell me you  _ actually _ believed that once you saw the turnout at that bar.”

Ianto shrugs, smile turning mischievous. “So you don’t go for the grizzled older man type?”

Jack stops, having found a mostly empty spot they can fit into, and turns giving Ianto a long look. “No, I wouldn’t say that was my type at all.”

Ianto feels a blush start to build over his chest, crawling up his neck as the weight of Jack’s gaze warms over him, and has to say something, anything, to distract himself from wondering what  _ exactly _ Jack’s type is these days.

“So you were saying about Mark?” he says, ignoring both the way his voice has gone a little cracked and the way the club lights are glinting off Jack’s hair and skin, lighting him up with shadows of rainbow colours and making him look almost ethereal. Damn, maybe he really shouldn’t have had so much to drink so fast.

Jack smirks like he knows a distraction tactic when he sees one but obliges, reaching out to pull Ianto in closer to be heard. “Mark is just a guy. He’s someone I’ve gone out to clubs with, and that’s really the extent of our friendship.”

Ianto opens his mouth to protest, though whether it is the brief explanation or the sinful movements Jack’s body has started to make in response to the change in song that he wants to protest, he isn’t sure. Jack doesn’t give him a chance in either case.

“Forget about Mark, Ianto,” he whispers, breath hot against the shell of Ianto’s ear and palms even hotter even through two layers of clothing when they come to rest on Ianto’s waist. “Dance with me.”

Ianto wants to, but he’s feeling nervous again. Even the alcohol loosening his inhibitions can’t distract him from the fact that they are going to be doing a very different kind of dancing here, and while he’s the one with the skills in the ballroom class, he’s a bit afraid he won’t measure up to Jack right now.

“You’re thinking too much,” Jack says. “Just feel it, Ianto. It’s just like in class, right? Listen to how my body is telling you to move and just go with it.”

He uses his hands to start moving Ianto’s body in time with his own, and Ianto quickly discovers that while Jack seems incapable of leading him in a foxtrot, he is more than capable of leading in general. Ianto lets his body relax, lets himself just give in to Jack’s movements against and with him and soon enough finds himself responding naturally and finding the rhythm easily.

“Why don’t you ever lead like this in class?” he asks as the song changes and Jack transfers them seamlessly into the new and faster beat.

“Because class is  _ boring _ , and ballroom music doesn’t make me want to move,” Jack responds. “But if it’s twirls and shit you want, I can give that to you.”

He smirks at Ianto before catching his hand up and with a flick of his wrist has Ianto turning under it and laughing. “See, spins and all.”

Ianto is still grinning and a little breathless when Jack slides in closer, slotting one leg neatly between Ianto’s own so that they are moving with each other as if fused. “Now isn’t this more fun than the Viennese Waltz?”

Ianto’s hands move up of their own accord to wind around Jack’s neck as they grind together, the proximity and alcohol making him dizzy and deliciously heated. He can feel every shift of Jack against him, feels surrounded and of fire and  _ free _ in a way he hasn’t in months. There are no thoughts or worries or regrets moving through him any longer, no what-ifs or whens. He’s pretty sure if the music never stopped, he could dance like this forever and be happy doing it.

He realises he’s having  _ fun _ .

“If only Kieran could see us now,” he teases and bites his lip when he sees the way Jack’s eyes go a little darker.

“Maybe we’ll just have to give him a show on Friday, hmm?” Jack practically growls, and then he’s turning Ianto again. He stops him halfway through though, pulls Ianto in so that his back is pressed tight to Jack’s chest and they’re still moving. Ianto gives an experimental swivel of his hips and feels a hot shiver run through him when Jack’s hips press in tighter against him in response.

“Can Kieran lead you like this, tiger?” Jack says into his ear, one arm curling low around Ianto’s waist and his other sliding up Ianto’s chest to cup Ianto’s chin and turn his head back to look into Jack’s eyes. Before he can think, Jack is turning him again though, bringing their bodies flush against one another again, chest to chest.

“Jack, forget about Kieran,” Ianto says, knows his own eyes are now just as dark. “And dance with me.”

Jack laughs and brings Ianto in closer. “Okay, tiger, anything you want.”

They move together easily, almost too easily honestly, because Ianto’s having a hard time not translating every movement, every roll of the hips and dip of the shoulders, into a much different kind of dance in his head. One with a lot less clothes and a lot more kissing.

Which of course means he can’t seem to tear his eyes away from Jack’s lips, which shine wetly every time his tongue darts out to lick over them. And from lips to cheeks, which Ianto thinks are just as flushed as his own, pinking prettily over sharp cheekbones. From cheeks to eyes, bright blue eyes that seem to be travelling similar paths over his own face, eyes that seem to darken every time Ianto moves his hips a certain way (so of course he does it again. And again and again and again). From eyes to hair, spiking softly with sweat as they build up heat between them, dancing faster and hotter as each song switches out to something new. And oh, those are  _ his _ fingers pulling through Jack’s hair, running down Jack’s neck and chest and then moving up to pull at his own in counterpoint as he rolls his hips once more.

Apparently alcohol makes Ianto horny. He’s never really had a chance to find this out about himself before, considering the last time he’d been drunk, he’d just been doing it to drown in his sorrows.

Jack’s eyes are nearly completely blown out with what Ianto hopes is want, because he’s pretty sure his expression is one of naked desire at this point. He sucks his own bottom lip into his mouth, thinking about how he’d much rather do it to Jack’s and wondering if Jack would stop him if he tried. And because he isn’t sure he’s quite ready to find out, he thinks it’s probably about time for a break.

“Need another drink,” he shouts over the music, which has only gotten louder as the night wears on.

Jack looks like he might argue, pulls Ianto’s hips in closer for a second, but then lets go and nods with an easy smile. Ianto grabs his hand, purely so as not to lose him in the crowd, he tells himself, and starts to push his way toward the bar again. And if he doesn’t let go of Jack’s hand once they’re there, well. Really, what’s the harm in that?

He gets the bartender’s attention rather quickly, ego inflating just a bit at the grin and wink he gets from the man who is looking him over as he approaches. Who knew he’d actually be a hot commodity? Jack must notice his preening because he laughs low and leans back in to murmur, “Are you just noticing now? Because I swear I had to give ten different guys the stink eye to get them to back off when you were dancing.”

“Oh, really?” Ianto asks, arching an eyebrow consideringly. “And what if I hadn’t wanted them to back off?”

Jack’s smile tightens just a little, which only serves to make Ianto’s heart give two beats when one would have been sufficient. “Do you? Want them to approach you, I mean?”

Ianto shakes his head quickly, biting his lip again and quirking a grin at Jack. “Nah, like you said before, tonight was supposed to be you and me.”

“I never actually said-” Jack starts to protest, but Ianto just winks at him and turns a blinding smile on the bartender.

“I’ll have a vodka martini,” he says happily, laughing a little when he hears Jack’s groan. “And a cider for my boring friend here.”

“Sure thing,” the bartender says with another smile and wink.

“I told you I’m not drinking any more tonight,” Jack insists, turning Ianto back to him and trying to look stern but mostly looking amused.

“You can’t make me drink alone,” Ianto insists, trying out a pout that only makes Jack laugh. “Besides, I promise we will stay and dance until you’re completely sober, okay?”

Jack’s eyes are still twinkling and his lips are quirked adorably, and Ianto really hopes he says okay because he’s having too much fun to think about leaving anytime soon.

“Fine, twist my arm,” Jack says with a fake sigh. When the bartender returns with their drinks, Jack slides a twenty across the counter and waves off the need for change. “You know, this means you owe me at least another hour or two of dancing, right?” he adds, clinking his bottle against Ianto’s martini glass which is precariously full of clear liquid.

“Twist my arm,” Ianto returns, covering his grin by taking a sip from the glass.

Jack actually reaches out and grabs onto his arm playfully, but his fingers don’t tighten and it turns into more caress than anything. Ianto takes another hasty sip, and Jack seems to have the same idea, practically draining his bottle in one go.

“Hey guys,” comes a voice from behind Ianto’s shoulder, and he turns a little to see Tommy standing there alone. He looks a little nervous and a little hopeful, and Ianto wonders how he’s survived in a place like this with friends like Mark without being eaten alive.

“Hey,” Jack says absently, setting his now empty bottle onto the bar. His eyes don’t leave Ianto’s face though, and Ianto sees Tommy’s expression fall just a little. He can’t help but feel bad, not because he  _ wants _ Jack to pay attention to the guy but because he recognises that look. He knows what it’s like to want someone who doesn’t seem to look that way at you at all.

So maybe he’s a little kinder than he would have been when Tommy stutteringly asks, “Um, Jack, I was wondering if you wanted to dance? With me?”

Jack looks like he’s going to blow it off, his hand still on Ianto’s arm pulling a little as if to remind Tommy that he’s here with someone, and while Ianto certainly isn’t willing to surrender Jack for the night, he thinks there is little harm in maybe giving up just one dance. It’ll give him a chance to get his head on straight if nothing else, so that there is a smaller likelihood of him throwing all thought and caution to the wind and mauling Jack on the dance floor.

“Come on, Captain, let him have one dance,” he says, pulling out what he’s started to think of as his secret weapon.

It seems to have maybe the opposite effect of what he was going for though, because all it serves to do is pull Jack’s attention fully back onto him. He’s looking at Ianto in that intense way he always does when Ianto calls him by anything other than his first name, and Ianto isn’t so sure he’s willing to give that dance up anymore after all.

“Just one dance, really,” Tommy pipes up. “Then I’ll turn you back over to Ianto here, I promise.”

He sounds so damn hopeful that Ianto forces himself to shake off his thoughts and step back. “Just one dance,” he says to Jack. “Then we can practice letting you lead again.”

Jack licks his lower lip while considering him, which almost destroys Ianto’s resolve all over again, but finally nods. “Sure, why not?”

“Sweet,” Tommy says, and Ianto wants to tell him to tone down the eagerness but it isn’t worth it to kill the happy smile on the kid’s face.

“Just one, though,” Jack says, eyes flicking between the two boys.

“That’s fine; I’m just going to finish my drink and then I’m all yours,” Ianto says, taking another tiny sip from his glass.

“Don’t go anywhere,” Jack says a bit more firmly. “I’m coming back after this, and I better find you here, okay? Don’t go wandering off.”

The vodka martini is mixing with the cocktails already in his system, making Ianto find the stern tone amusing and endearing in equal measure, and he giggles a little before giving a salute and a stern look of his own. “Yes, sir.”

Jack looks even less sure than before about leaving, even though Tommy is tugging at his sleeve. “Ianto, are you sure- you’re kinda drunk, tiger, I don’t know if I should…”

“I’ll be fine, really,” Ianto says, waving off the concern, and hopping up on a newly vacated barstool as if to prove he’ll stay put. “What could happen to me sitting right here?”

“You really haven’t ever been to a gay bar, have you?” Jack sighs, though he’s giving in a little to Tommy’s insistent pulling and stumbles about a half step away.

“Have so; you took me to one yourself.”

“Ianto-”

“I promise; I’ll be fine. I won’t let any big bad predatory guys seduce me, m’kay? You know if you just went and danced, you’d be practically back by now.”

Jack’s mouth is twisting into a frown and he’s eyeing the guys on either side of Ianto with distrust, but no one is moving in on Ianto or even really paying him much attention at the moment, so eventually he sighs again and acquiesces.

“I’ll be back in a few.”

“I’ll be here,” Ianto calls back, and smiles around another drink as Jack rolls his eyes and gets pulled into the crowd.

He’s nearly finished his drink when someone does approach, and Ianto is all prepared to give them a nice brush off until he sees who it is.

“Mark,” he says as coldly as he can. “If you’re looking for Tommy, he should be back soon. No need to wait with me.”

Mark grins at him, a little more genuinely than before, Ianto thinks, but that could just be the alcohol talking. Everyone seems friendlier when you’re drunk, he’s learning.

“Don’t be like that, Ianto,” Mark purrs, nudging a guy off an adjacent stool so that he can slide onto it. “I didn’t mean to get us off to a bad start. Jack and I just have a history of being snarky with each other; I didn’t realise I’d be stepping on toes.”

He props his chin in his hands and looks at Ianto so sincerely that Ianto feels his opinions start to sway. After all, he knows just how easy it is to build a relationship with Jack based on less than kind teasing, but they’re actually friends. Wouldn’t it be hypocritical of him to judge Mark based on words that wouldn’t have sounded so foreign coming out of his own mouth given a different set of circumstances?

Mark seems to read his hesitation and dives back in. “Really, we are friends; I promise you. I wasn’t trying to start anything, but Tommy and I, we’ve been concerned is all.”

“Concerned?” Ianto asks, voice a little high and not so sure if he’s curious or wants to walk away right now. Curiosity, as usual, wins out.

“Jack just hasn’t been himself lately,” Mark says, voice full of worry that might have seemed more false if Ianto wasn’t several drinks under.

“How so?”

“Well, he’s not coming out as often for one. There’s a group of us that likes to hit the clubs and bars together and he hasn’t been joining in as much. In fact, for the past week or so, he’s hardly answered our texts.”

“Maybe he’s been busy,” Ianto tries, thinking about Jack’s words from earlier in the evening.  _ Maybe I don’t feel like going out every night. People change _ .

“Maybe he has,” Mark concedes. “Seeing you certainly goes a long way towards explaining that.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Ianto asks defensively, though he’s already pretty sure he knows what it means. Shit, maybe the third drink wasn’t such a good idea after all, because everything is starting to spin a little more and Mark’s words sound a bit echo-y in his ears.

“It means if I had a guy like you in my bed, I might not be answering texts either.”

“I’m not,” Ianto says automatically, though why admitting that seems like a good idea, he can’t quite decide.

“Oh no?” Mark asks, looking at Ianto more shrewdly. “Shame, though from what I’ve heard about Jack’s performance problems at a glitter rave the other week, maybe not so much of a shame for you.”

“Performance problems?” Wow, Ianto has got to stop just repeating words back, but this entire conversation is just making less and less sense, and he’s really just kind of hoping Jack comes back soon.

“Yep, seems our boy-” and oh Ianto doesn’t like that ‘our’ at all, “has decided that he’s too good to be hooking up in back rooms these days. Apparently, he left his date high and dry the other night, claiming he had somewhere else he had to be.”

Ianto knows he should probably be making some sort of connection here, images of wiping glitter off of sticky skin and words like  _ you’re never there _ echoing and circling in his brain, but he’s snapped out of trying to make the pieces fit together by a hand on his arm. He looks down, startled to find that not only is Mark touching him, but he really kind of wishes he would stop.

“Hey, I’ve gotta powder my nose,” Mark says, all friendly non-threatening smiles. “Come with me? We can keep talking.”

Ianto feels like it probably isn’t a good idea but can’t put his finger on exactly why. After all, whenever he’s hanging with the girls, they  _ always _ go to the bathroom in bunches, so maybe it’s the same when you’re hanging out with a bunch of queer guys? He hasn’t really had enough experience to know. But Mark is already pulling him from his seat, and really, what’s the harm? Safety in numbers and all that, right? Besides, Ianto thinks he may have to pee anyway.

Mark pulls him through the swinging door and into a surprisingly empty bathroom and Ianto stumbles over to the urinal to take care of business. Mark is over by the sinks and not really doing much of anything, and Ianto starts chuckling when he thinks about the boy  _ actually _ powdering his nose.

“Something funny, honey?” Mark purrs, stepping in closer when Ianto finishes and starts to reach for his zipper.

“No,” Ianto says, stepping back. “Just thinking.”

“Mmm, me too,” Mark says, stalking forward and forcing Ianto to back up against the wall next to the sinks.

“I should probably go back out there,” he insists, eyeing the distance to the door and trying to do up his trousers again but Mark’s hand on his wrist stops him.

“Why go out there when we can have all kinds of fun right here?”

“I thought you had to use the bathroom,” Ianto splutters, trying to wrap his mind around the change in circumstance. He wrenches his hand away from Mark’s grip and forcefully does up his zipper and button, feeling better once he is less exposed.

“Seriously?” Mark smirks. “Oh my god, you are  _ adorable _ .”

“That’s what my ex used to say,” Ianto says nonsensically, because, really, there are about a million things he should be thinking about right now, should be  _ doing _ right now, and not a single one of them should involve remembering Lisa.

“Oh yeah?” Mark asks, leaning back into Ianto’s personal bubble and ghosting vodka-laced breath over his cheek in a way that makes Ianto shiver unpleasantly. “And what does Jack call you?”

Ianto is saved from having to answer ( _ tiger _ on the tip of his tongue nevertheless) when Jack himself is suddenly there, pulling Mark off of him and crowding into Ianto protectively.

“I call him  **mine** ,” he growls, glaring at Mark half-draped across a sink where Jack’s thrown him. “So  _ fuck off _ .”

Mark starts to laugh but ends up wincing and glaring down at where his hip made contact with the sink instead. He turns the scowl up to the two boys still pressed against the wall and each other and mutters something about Jack never having been this picky about sharing  _ before _ , and then he’s swinging through the bathroom door and Ianto and Jack are alone.

Ianto is suddenly very aware of just how close Jack is, radiant heat washing over him and every point of contact their bodies have making his blood sing.

“You okay?” Jack asks quietly. He’s finally turned from scowling after Mark’s retreating form, face softening into a concerned frown as he looks Ianto over for signs of damage or distress.

“Yeah,” Ianto manages to choke out, voice a little cracked, and it is mostly true.

It isn’t Mark and his unwanted come-ons that have him shaken (the self-defense classes he took during his early teens mean that even drunk Ianto is pretty sure he could have stopped Mark before anything really happened). No, it’s the fact that he’s just had a blinding moment of clarity, cutting through the haze of alcohol and the adrenaline of the moment, and it all comes down to Jack. Jack, who he wants, very very much.

There are probably more pieces to it than that, parts that have more to do with that tight feeling in his chest or the butterflies in his stomach, but at least this one tiny fragment of his changing and confusing feelings is finally clear. It isn’t just the drinks, or the circumstances, or any of a million things he’s used as an excuse before.

The fact of the matter is that when Jack is near him, he just  _ wants _ .

He wants to kiss and to touch and to move, wants to feel long-fingered hands drifting over him, wants to feel strong arms braced around him. Whatever else he may be feeling, desire is suddenly at the forefront of his mind, and it’s a revelation that is making him a little shaky on his feet. He’s never felt this type of physical pull before, and he is suddenly inordinately grateful for the three drinks that are keeping him from thinking about what else he might want from the gorgeous boy in front of him, because dealing with just the physical is more than enough in this moment.

“Ianto?” Jack asks, reading the stunned looks as distress. “Did he touch you?”

“No, just my wrist,” Ianto says, lifting his hand though there aren’t even any marks to show. Jack grabs it nevertheless, turning it in the light as if he could pick up fingerprints against the skin. He closes his hand around it eventually, like he can erase the touch with his own.

“Why did you come in here with him?” Jack asks, voice sounding angry, though Ianto can hear the note of as-yet unquashed fear underneath. “Are you stupid? Don’t you know what people do in these bathrooms? Why would you be so idiotic - I  _ told _ you not to move!”

“Jack,” Ianto says as soothingly as he can, running a hand over Jack’s chest in an attempt to calm him. Jack’s chest is heaving, heavy breaths sucked in and out as he gets more worked up.

“Don’t you realise what could have happened if I didn’t come in?”

“Jack, I’m fine. It’s okay. You did.”

“Do you have any idea how infuriating you are?” Jack yells, eyes wild and still tracking over Ianto’s face like he’s afraid if he looks away Ianto will disappear. “You never fucking listen!”

“I’m sorry,” Ianto says, bringing both hands up to circle around Jack’s neck and hold him close. “I didn’t mean to make you worry.”

“Fuck,” Jack says, staring at him intensely. “ _ Ianto _ .”

And then Jack kisses him. Hard.

The kiss isn’t anything but claiming and reassurance, the harsh press of lips and teeth a physical reminder to them both that they are here, together, safe and unharmed. Jack forces his tongue between Ianto’s lips, growling in triumph when Ianto lets his mouth fall open further to allow Jack to take whatever he wants. Every stroke of his tongue and hands might as well be branding the word  _ mine _ against Ianto’s mouth, his skin.

When Jack pulls away, they are both breathing harshly.

“Fuck, I didn’t mean to- I was just…” Jack starts to say, eyes looking a little panicky again, but Ianto just surges forward to try and get their lips back together.

Jack turns his head though, burying it in Ianto’s neck instead, and that sends a whole new set of sparks crackling down Ianto’s spine.

“Ianto, wait- just wait a second,” Jack pants against his neck, and every word makes his lips brush over that tender skin, raising goosebumps in their wake.

“No, no waiting,” Ianto whines, pressing in closer to try and get that mouth to move over him again.

“You’re drunk,” Jack insists, though he doesn’t pull away. “Hell, I’m a little drunk. And you just had an encounter with that bastard, so now is not the time to-”

“It’s exactly the time to,” Ianto says, mind in overdrive to find some reason to keep Jack kissing him. He hears the angry way Jack says  _ that bastard _ and has an idea. “You should mark me.”

“What?”

That does have Jack pulling back from in surprise, which was kind of the opposite of what Ianto was aiming for, but Jack’s eyes are dark and straying to Ianto’s neck so Ianto thinks he can still work with it.

“You should mark me,” he repeats. “Then everyone will know I’m here with you, and no one will try to bother me again.”

It is flawed logic at best, but Ianto is a little desperate here.

“A few love bites really aren’t going to stop anyone here, tiger.”

“Yes, they will,” Ianto insists, dragging Jack closer. “Come on; you’ll never know unless you try.”

“Fuck, this is not a good idea,” Jack mumbles, but he’s already mouthing over Ianto’s neck again, pressing their hips together.

When Jack sucks gently at his neck for the first time, Ianto arches up into it, unable to stop the tiny moan that escapes him. Everything just feels so good, not just being touched but giving himself up to the desire and not fighting it anymore. Jack’s arms tighten around him, and Jack moves his mouth over an inch before biting down, scraping his teeth over a new mark before sucking at it again. Ianto’s hands are tight in Jack’s hair, holding him in close as Jack sucks and nibbles up and down the column of his throat.

Jack groans his own approval at their activities, and Ianto feels the vibrations of his against his Adam's-apple and jerks his hips forward in response. Jack presses back, pushing against the hard line of Ianto’s erection, pulling another ragged gasp from Ianto. The movement also seems to shock Jack out of his own haze of desire though, and he pulls back - eyes dark and lips swollen as he takes in Ianto’s heated gaze. His eyes track down to Ianto’s neck and Ianto can’t help but run his fingers over the marks there, biting harshly at his lip to keep from moaning again when he feels the wetness left behind by Jack’s mouth.

“I-” Jack starts. He has to clear his throat before he can speak again, voice sounding gravelly and a little broken still. “We should probably go.”

“Why?” Ianto asks, more turned on than curious but genuinely wanting to know.

“Because you’re drunk, because I’m drunk, because you almost got assaulted in a bathroom, and I’m feeling alternately like punching someone and kissing you until you can’t breathe and neither one of those is a good idea.”

“Oh.”

Ianto doesn’t know what to make of that, because he knows if he was more sober and logical, he’d probably agree with Jack that all of this is not exactly ideal circumstances in which to add more layers to their already-confusing relationship. He knows tomorrow he is going to be left wondering how much of tonight was the alcohol and weird possessive streak Jack seems to have, and how much of it might be Jack wanting him too, and that the less they do the easier it will be to accept either of those answers. But he isn’t sober, and he isn’t thinking logically, and mostly what he hears is that Jack wants to kiss him and yet somehow  _ isn’t _ doing exactly that.

“Come on,” Jack says, obviously more in control of himself than Ianto at the moment if he’s able to back up toward the door. “We should go.”

“But you can’t drive until you’re sober,” Ianto insists, letting himself be pulled out of the bathroom and back into the heat and noise of the club.

“So we’ll sit in the car until I am,” Jack says, though he’s looking at Ianto like he’s thinking maybe that won’t be such a good idea either, sitting in the close and quiet dark together.

“Or we could dance,” Ianto calls out. “I promised you another few dances at least, didn’t I?”

“Ianto,” Jack says, but that seems to be the extent of his argument so Ianto’s pretty sure he’s going to win this one.

“Jack,” Ianto teases back, taking the lead now and guiding them closer to the dance floor. “Don’t let one arsehole ruin our night, okay? Just dance with me, until that cider wears off, and then we can go, okay?”

They’ve come to a halt back in the crowd, and Ianto starts to move again to the beat but Jack is still standing stiffly. He’s scanning the room angrily again, obviously looking for Mark and a fight, but Ianto doesn’t want to think about anyone else. He just wants to dance with Jack again, wants to give in to this  _ want _ that he is finally acknowledging and enjoy the way their bodies move together. He wants Jack to be thinking about nothing but him, for the next few hours at least. So he does what his drunken mind is telling him is a surefire way to get Jack’s attention back on  _ him _ , and begins to unbutton his shirt.

He’s only three buttons down when Jack’s eyes flicker to him and widen.

“What are you doing?” Jack asks, gaze firmly affixed to where Ianto is still undoing buttons.

“It’s hot in here,” Ianto offers. Jack swallows heavily.

“I’m pretty sure those are just lyrics though, tiger. You don’t actually have to take off all your clothes.”

Ianto abandons the buttons when one gets stuck near the bottom and just pulls the whole thing off over his head instead.

“Guess I’ll just take off the shirt then,” he says, leaning in to whisper it directly into Jack’s ear as he tosses the extraneous material aside leaving him in just a vest. He’ll probably regret losing the shirt tomorrow, but the way Jack’s eyes darken and the way his hands feels so much hotter through just the thin material of Ianto’s undershirt when they come up to rest on his waist makes Ianto think it’ll still probably be worth it.

He moves in closer, slowly, giving Jack time to pull away if he wants but not stopping the motion of his hips for even a minute. Right now, he isn’t caring if it is just the alcohol talking, doesn’t care if Jack teases him about this tomorrow or insists that there is nothing between them but barely established friendship. Right now he knows what he wants, and as long as Jack is willing to give it, he’s going to enjoy one night free of overthinking.

When Ianto meets no resistance, he moves in and presses his lips against Jack’s again, more gently than in the bathroom but no less urgent. Jack stiffens up under the kiss, like he’s not quite sure if he’s allowed, and Ianto knows he’s still worrying about earlier and Mark.

“I don’t want…” Jack starts, pulling back to lick his lips and tries again. “I’m not going to take advantage of you here.”

“I know,” Ianto says, smirking. “I’m going to take advantage of you.”

That gets a laugh, and Ianto can feel some of the tension drain out of Jack’s shoulders. Jack starts to move his body to the beat, rocking in time with Ianto and finding that rhythm that seems to have come so naturally to them here, when thought and snark and inhibitions have been pushed aside. When Ianto kisses him again, he doesn’t fight it, lets Ianto lick into his mouth and brushes his tongue up and along Ianto’s own.

They kiss and move through a song and a half, and Ianto feels heady with it. He hasn’t let himself feel this swept up in desire in so long, hasn’t just  _ kissed _ without thought or worry or pretense in so so long. Jack’s mouth fits against him perfectly, slotting their lips together over and over in a  _ presstouchtaste _ that Ianto can feel thrumming through him with an intensity that shakes him to his core. Eventually, they have to pull back to breathe, though they don’t stop their bodies from moving together, and Jack laughs again - like he can’t quite figure out what’s happening.

“What-” he begins, but Ianto hushes him with one more quick peck before turning in his arms to press his back against Jack’s chest again, like earlier.

“We can talk about it later,” he says over his shoulder, meeting Jack’s darkened blue eyes. “For now just dance, okay?”

Jack leans down to bite over one of the marks on Ianto’s neck briefly, and then he nods, pushing against Ianto’s arse.

“Sure, tiger,” he whispers into Ianto’s ear, grinding forward once more before pulling back and spinning Ianto out again until they are both breathless with laughter. “Whatever you want.”

They dance together for another hour or two before the DJ starts announcing last call and Jack declares he is definitely sober enough to drive. They haven’t kissed anymore, not really, but moving together has been enough. Every now and then their lips will brush against each other’s lips or cheeks or once - when Ianto has his back pressed against the hard line of Jack again - a kiss brushed across his ear. Every time Ianto thinks about pushing for more, his dick is certainly more than interested and from the way they’re grinding, it’s easy to assume that Jack is too. But something about just dancing, moving together and letting Jack’s body lead his, is intimate enough for the moment. Now that he’s accepted his own want, and got a taste of what Jack can give, he doesn’t feel the need as urgently to take it all right this very second.

Besides he’s pretty sure he’s worn out from trying to keep up with Jack’s moves, otherwise he might have said ‘screw slow’ and been much more inclined to insist on more of the kissing. As it is, Jack’s arm around his waist feels perfect as he steers them back out into the night and toward the car.

“That was fun,” Ianto says happily, stumbling only a little and laughing when Jack catches him to keep him from falling.

“Hmm, except for the part where I nearly had to remove someone’s dick from their body for touching you? Yeah it was fun.”

“Come on, Cap,” Ianto croons, smiling when the name gets a reaction. “Admit you had fun, and liked dancing with me. I’m a good dancer.”

“I suppose you aren’t a  _ terrible _ dancer,” Jack teases. “Though it wouldn’t kill you to let me take the lead like that in class every once in a while instead of fighting me for control.”

“You like it that I fight you,” Ianto says, nodding at his own drunken wisdom. “Remember? You don’t do boring.”

“Well, life around you is certainly anything but that,” Jack agrees, pulling Ianto up when he stumbles again. “Jeez, tiger, you were all eloquence in motion until the music stopped. Where the hell is all that grace now that I’m the one that has to drag you back to the car?”

“Gone. Gone gone gone. ‘m tired now.”

“I can see that,” Jack says wryly. “Just a little farther, okay? I really don’t want to have to carry you.”

“‘Cause you’re not a prince, right? Princes are the ones that carry people.”

“Sure, whatever keeps you walking,” Jack laughs.

“But you’re pretty enough to be one, you know,” Ianto adds, taking some of his own weight back onto his feet so that he can turn and contemplate Jack’s profile.

“You think I’m pretty, huh?” Jack smirks. “I think I’m going to have to hold that particular drunken rambling against you, fair warning.”

“But you are,” Ianto says sincerely. “You are very very pretty, boy pretty, though. Not like me, everyone thinks I’m girl pretty.”

“Ianto,” Jack says, stopping once they’ve reached the stairwell of the car park to look at Ianto more fully. “That’s not true.”

“Yes, it is,” Ianto says with a shrug. “Even you say so. It’s okay though, I’m used to people thinking those things.

“I only say that stuff, because that’s how we are with each other,” Jack insists, and Ianto doesn’t know why he sounds so serious. Ianto is just mostly tired now and wants to sit down in the car and maybe sleep.

“Okay,” he agrees readily, wanting to take the slightly distraught look off Jack’s face so that they can walk again.

“I mean it,” Jack maintains. “It’s just what we do, the teasing. You know that it’s just teasing by now, right?”

Ianto shrugs and leans against Jack again, and Jack sighs and hitches him up to keep them both upright.

“Believe me, all those assumptions have long since been corrected. I’ve seen you naked, you know,” he adds with a more familiar smirk, getting them moving into the car park again.

“ _ Nearly _ naked,” Ianto corrects around a yawn and Jack laughs.

“Okay,  _ nearly _ naked,” he agrees. “But my point still stands.”

Ianto smiles against Jack’s shoulder. When they reach the Rover though, and Jack props him against the side to unlock the door, Ianto looks at him appraisingly again. “So you think I’m boy pretty, then?”

Jack pauses with the door halfway open.

“I think…” he begins, looking at Ianto seriously. He stares at Ianto for a full ten seconds and Ianto feels more dizzy than before. Then Jack tears his eyes away and shakes his head.

“I think you are drunk, and I think you’re going to be hating life in the morning,” he says with a half laugh. “And I think I should get you home.”

“‘Kay,” Ianto agrees easily. “Can I sleep on the way home? ‘m tired.”

“Sure thing, tiger,” Jack promises.

Ianto does, in fact, sleep most of the way home, and by the time they are pulling up in front of his house, he’s feeling much more sober. Jack had forced a water bottle and a few painkillers on him early in the drive, and that combined with the nap has him feeling more groggy and headache-y than loopy. He knows he’s going to be feeling worse tomorrow though.

“Think you can get in without your parents suspecting?” Jack asks him, glancing up at the lighted windows through the windscreen.

“Yeah, it’ll be fine,” Ianto mumbles. “I’m just going to crash anyway.”

“Okay.”

Ianto unbuckles his seatbelt and reaches for the door, before pausing to look over at Jack in the driver's seat. All the events of the night are at the forefront of his mind, and while he doesn’t regret any of it (can truthfully feel that now-recognised want still pulsing in his bloody even underneath the pounding of impending hangover) he does suddenly feel a little worried that maybe he overstepped that friendship line thy laid down not that long ago. He needs to sleep, and then process, to decide what it is he’s going to do about all these new feelings, but first he needs mostly to know that they are okay before he goes inside.

“Sorry if um… if I came on too strong or whatever tonight. I think it’s probably pretty obvious why I don’t drink now.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Jack says, shrugging off Ianto’s apology, though his smile dims just a little. “You don’t… well, it’s not like I’m a stranger to lowered inhibitions when it comes to alcohol.”

Ianto nods but bites his lip in worry, feeling like he’s maybe said the exact wrong thing and he doesn’t know why. He’s about to say something more,  _ what _ he isn’t sure - maybe babble about how much he’s suddenly decided he likes them kissing, but Jack’s smile twists up into a friendly smirk and breaks the tension first.

“Besides, get a couple drinks in you, and you’re actually a little fun, tiger.”

Ianto smiles and rolls his eyes, wincing when that doesn’t help his head too much. They are okay then, back to normal at least, so he can stop worrying about it until he has a chance to properly think. Then he can worry about the way Jack seems to have got into his blood all he wants.

“Thanks for watching out for me,” he adds, because that at least does need to be said. Jack smiles again, this one real and soft and full of that same emotion that Ianto feels sometimes when he catches Jack at a more vulnerable moment.

“Any time,” Jack says sincerely, then scrunches up his nose and sneers playfully in Ianto’s direction. “Now get out of my car.”

Ianto glares, but Jack just grins at him and Ianto can’t help but smile back as he climbs out.

This time he makes it all the way to the front door before Jack pulls away into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks as always to my cheerleader temporalsilence and my beta princessoftheworlds
> 
> i loved this chapter, ngl *_*


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ianto wakes the day after his trip to a gay bar with Jack and is confronted with someone he has been avoiding for weeks. Jack also turns up at some point.

Ianto wakes up after noon on Tuesday feeling like something died in his mouth, but on the plus side, the headache is only moderately blinding. After downing some aspirin and taking a long hot shower, he feels, in fact, mostly human again. However the throbbing in his temples returns with a vengeance when he walks downstairs to find Gwen Cooper sitting stiffly on his living room sofa next to Rhiannon, who looks rather uncomfortable. He’s suddenly very grateful that he took the time to apply some cover-up to his neck before venturing down.

She spots him before he can make a hasty retreat back up the stairs and is on her feet and moving toward him before Ianto can say, “Not today, please not today.” It probably wouldn’t have made a difference anyway, as she’s striding with purpose up to his room without even a hello. Rhiannon gives him a sympathetic look, and Ianto shrugs in return. It is, after all, one of the hazards of friendship with Ms. Cooper. When she wants to talk to you, you never can avoid her for long.

“Gwen, how nice to see you,” Ianto says in monotone, closing the door to his room behind him and sinking down next to her where she is sitting primly on the edge of his bed. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your unexpected company?”

“You know very well why I’m here. You’ve been avoiding me for weeks, Ianto,  _ weeks _ .”

He can’t quite meet her eyes and makes a noncommittal sound in response because it is entirely true. The problem is he knows what talking to her would mean, and last night’s revelations aside, he still isn’t quite sure what to say. It would be so much easier if he could just tell her the truth, but he knows too well that she wouldn’t be able to keep it to herself and then everyone would know.

Gwen sighs a little at the lack of response, and her eyes get big and sincere in that way that he hates because it always makes him feel vaguely guilty. Still, he can’t help but grab her hand in his when she places a comforting palm on his thigh, because as difficult as all this lying is, he  _ has _ missed her.

“Ianto, I just don’t understand,” she says quietly. “The last time we talked, you were avoiding dealing with your feelings of abandonment from Lisa, and the next thing I know, I hear from Rhiannon that you’re dating  _ him _ .”

“Jack,” he corrects automatically, fighting the blush when he realises.

“Jack, then,” she says, looking at him more shrewdly. Ianto is still avoiding her gaze as best he can, and after a minute, she stops trying to make him meet her eyes and tilts her head to rest against his shoulder instead. He rests his cheek against her hair and lets out a little sigh of his own, wishing this were easier, wishing he had answers to give or explanations that made any sense at all.

“I just want you to talk to me, Ianto,” she says quietly a few minutes later. It’s all Ianto really wants too, and so maybe while he can’t tell them the whole truth, he can work around it. Because he needs to talk to someone, at least a little.

Still, he doesn’t know how to start, so he’s grateful when she pushes his shoulder to get him to scoot back onto the bed with her, sitting side by side against the headboard.

“Is this some kind of revenge?” she asks plainly. “For Lisa leaving, I mean. Because believe me, I’ve tried that, and it turns out making out with other people doesn’t actually work out so well in the long run when you’re trying to get someone to love you.”

“No,” he assures her quickly. “Not revenge. The last thing I want to do is hurt Lisa, and I never set out to date Jack, I promise. It just kind of… happened.”

That much is true. But of course, it doesn’t satisfy her curiosity completely.

“Are you in love with him?”

“No,” he says again, because he knows that’s true too. He ignores the little whisper-y voice that adds  _ Not yet? _ as a foggy question in his mind.

“But you like him.”

It isn’t even a question, and Ianto supposes that it shouldn’t be. After all, Gwen knows that they are dating so it would seem obvious that Ianto at least must  _ like _ the guy. Yet the fact that, false pretenses or no, the answer would still be ‘yes’ if it  _ was _ a question is still a bit of a novelty to Ianto so he answers anyway.

“Yes, I like him. Though he still makes me crazy.”

“Crazy in a bang-your-head-against-hard-objects kind of way, or crazy in a-tear-all-your-clothes-off kind of way?” she teases, though her mouth drops open in shock when his face goes red. “Oh my god, Ianto!  _ Are you sleeping with him already? _ ” The last statement is hissed as if Gwen is afraid saying it too loudly might make it true.

“What? No!” he defends automatically, then buries his head in his arms and groans because this is all so much more complicated than he can explain.

“But you want to.” He knows it’s an accusation, knows that although she loves him, she did not come here today prepared to hear that.

“I don’t know,” he answers, and that is perhaps a little less honest. Last night’s epiphany wasn’t just about the alcohol or adrenaline. The truth, now that he’s admitted it if only to himself, is that he  _ does _ want Jack - though whether he wants to have  _ sex _ with Jack is a little more than Ianto is quite ready to think about. The problem is that he still isn’t sure just how much he  _ likes _ Jack, and right now, all those matters of the heart seem much more potentially dangerous to Ianto than anything having to do with his dick.

She is still glaring at him and waiting for more. He thunks his head back against his headboard (and regrets it when that flares his headache back to life) and answers as best he can.

“We started hanging out,” he begins, weaving his way through lies and truth to try and be as honest as possible with her without giving the game away. “We ran into each other at the coffee shop we always go to back in June and got to talking. He needed… company, I suppose. Oh not that kind!” he adds when Gwen shoots him a knowing look. “It wasn’t like that; we were both just - searching I guess you could say, for something we needed out of the summer, and we found it in each other.”

“ _ In _ each other?” she presses, and Ianto smacks her in the face with a pillow.

“It’s not all about sex, Gwen.”

“But it is somewhat about sex, isn’t it? Don’t deny it, Ianto; I saw your face when I mentioned ripping his clothes off.”

“It’s a little bit about that,” he admits, finding the words are maybe slightly less hard to say aloud than he expected. “I don’t know; he’s handsome, alright? So sue me.”

“Is he a good kisser?” Gwen whispers conspiratorially, giggling a little when Ianto levels her with another glare.

He can’t help but smile eventually though, and respond with, “Maybe. Yes. Shut up.”

She laughs for real then, snuggling into his side and giggling against his chest until he starts too and they are both shaking with it.

“So it’s a summer fling then,” Gwen says firmly once they have both calmed down somewhat. “You’re just having fun until Lisa comes to her senses and comes back.”

That wipes the last of the smile from Ianto’s face, because he hasn’t been thinking of it like that and now wonders if he should be. Is that what this is? Deal aside, is this him just having some fun? Just kissing someone he finds attractive to pass the time until Lisa returns? It doesn’t feel quite that easy, nor does it feel very true, and that scares him a little.

“Ianto?” she presses when he is silent for too long. “That is it, isn’t it? You are still waiting for Lisa, aren’t you?”

“I don’t know,” he says, before he even knows it’s true.

“Ianto!”

“Well, why should I?” he shouts, a little angry now. “She  _ dumped me _ , Gwen. She broke my heart and left me so that she could learn to be alone, so why the hell should I have to wait and  _ be _ alone while she figures it out?”

She looks a little chagrined, runs a soothing hand over his arm until he settles and lets her back in close. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean… I know you’re hurting,” she tells him. “And of course you shouldn’t have to just wait around, but that’s what Jack is about, isn’t he? Giving you something to distract you for the summer?”

“He’s not just a thing, Gwen,” Ianto insists, doesn’t even care if it makes him sound more invested than he means to show. Because as far as he’s been able to tell, Jack’s life has been full of people just using him to pass the time (family excluded, obviously), and Ianto does not want to be counted among them. “He’s a person, not a distraction.”

“Okay,” she says, like she still isn’t quite sure where this new Jack-defending Ianto is coming from but she’s willing to try and go with it. “But he’s still just a temporary person. Lisa is your  _ soulmate _ , Ianto; that doesn’t change just because you spend a summer apart.”

Ianto doesn’t know what to say to that. The silly romantic in him still wants to believe in things like soulmates and destiny, wants to believe that a few bumps in the road can’t keep you from fate and true love. But the more practical side of him, the side that has discovered sex, the part of him that has learned that love requires work and patience instead of just dreamy sighs, that part wonders - if things are so meant to be, how come they’re not? If he and Lisa are soulmates, why would Lisa feel the need to step away from him? If Lisa’s his ‘one true love,’ why does it feel like Jack has been healing something in him instead of just distracting him from the loss?

“I mean, just think of the future; it’s always Lisa, right? Jack isn’t exactly a future kind of bloke,” Gwen insists with a knowing look.

He’s pretty sure that’s another dig at his ‘boyfriend,’ but he can’t muster up a response because he’s struck by the fact that he hasn’t pictured his future  _ at all _ for the past few months. Ever since Lisa dropped that bombshell, his entire being has been focused on just getting through this summer, and Jack lives so much in the here and now, that he’s been caught up in the days and weeks, not the months and years. Mostly, he’s realising that when he pictures the future now, it isn’t very clear at all. And, with that realisation comes another. He and Jack - whatever they are - have an end date on them too. Don’t they?

“Ianto,” she says gently, and it’s only then he realises how confused and stricken he must look. “It’s okay that you’re sexually attracted to Jack, if that’s what you’re worried about.” (It’s not, but he’ll go with it because he’s not sure how to articulate all the things he  _ is _ worried about to someone who’s so very, very sure about what his love life is going to look like in three months time.)

“But don’t make more of it than it is,” she continues. “You know he’s a player; you’ve told me so yourself a thousand times this year. I’m not saying you shouldn’t enjoy what he has to offer,” - she digs her finger into his side playfully and pokes her tongue out from between her teeth as if it is all just a game (is it?) - “but don’t go complicating it either. Have some fun, enjoy him, but don’t lose your head, okay? It can be much too easy to read into things that aren’t really there, and I’d hate for you to let your heart get involved with someone who has no use for it. I worry about you, Ianto. I don’t want to see you hurt even more.”

Honestly, he’s a little worried about him too, now that she mentions it, and the worst part is he was finally starting to  _ not _ worry so much right up until her little pep talk. Sharing was supposed to make this easier, not more complicated, but now, he’s left with a whole new slew of questions. Is this just all about sex? It’s not like that would be out of character for Jack.

Maybe last night was a fluke; maybe it wasn’t even about  _ him _ but about Jack wanting to hook up with  _ someone _ while out, and Ianto was just who he happened to be with. And Gwen’s right; Jack may be many things but he’s never been one to subscribe to monogamy, nor has he ever been shy about sharing that fact. Something Mark said last night, about Jack not kissing or not going out or  _ something _ is niggling at the back of his mind in protest, but Gwen is still talking quickly to him and Ianto can’t think. He’s also pretty sure that worrying about Jack’s intentions is only half the equation, and maybe not even the difficult half considering how dangerously complicated his own emotions and intentions seem to be.

“Lisa is going to come back at the end of the summer, and everything will go back to normal, you’ll see,” she adds eventually at the end of her soliloquy. Ianto’s pretty sure he missed something in there, but it doesn’t matter because all he can hear is ‘normal,’ and all he can think is he’s not so sure what normal is any longer, or even if he wants it.

Gwen stays for the rest of the afternoon, but they don’t talk about his dating life anymore. It seems that now she’s assured herself he isn’t being blackmailed or drugged, she’s content to let him play out whatever melodrama he wants for the six weeks until Lisa’s return. On the plus side, she keeps him so busy with talk of her own summer, he doesn’t really have too much of a chance to dwell.

Later that night though, lying in bed alone in the dark, his mind wanders back to all those thoughts of soulmates and futures and distractions. He thinks of Lisa, in some room in a city he can’t even picture, and wonders if Lisa is thinking of him and missing him. Does Lisa believe in destiny still? Is she expecting that Ianto will be here waiting or has she let go of Ianto already? He thinks of Jack, wonders if he’s lying in his bed or if he’s, even now, out looking for a distraction of his own. Wonders if the twist of his gut at the thought of Jack kissing someone else has to do with more than the physical want he’s admitted to himself, or if it truly is just that he’s like to be the one being kissed based on no other feeling than desire.

Ianto wonders mostly how you are supposed to know if you’re starting to feel things for someone new when you haven’t quite stopped feeling them for someone else.

Somewhere in all that wondering, he falls asleep. Mercifully, he doesn’t dream.

\-----

By Wednesday afternoon, he’s stopped letting himself worry about it quite so much. Okay, it’s maybe more that he’s stopped letting himself  _ think _ which helps with the not worrying, but either way, his mind if sufficiently clear of any thoughts of love and focused entirely on thought of zombies (which he is killing onscreen with Johnny, having stolen the controller from Rhiannon an hour ago) when the doorbell rings.

“Get the door, Rhiannon,” Ianto instructs when his sister doesn’t move.

“You get the door,” Rhiannon pouts. “And give me back my controller.”

“No way, Ianto is a way better teammate than you,” Johnny insists, fist-bumping Ianto when he takes out another two zombies at point-blank range.

“Yeah, Rhi, I’m a much better teammate,” Ianto teases, laughing when Rhiannon flips him off. This is easy, this is fun, this is exactly what he needed. No thoughts of sex or love or any other complications, just guts, glory and Pringles.

The doorbell rings again.

“Rhi!”

“No way; you want to know who’s at the door, you’re just going to have to hand over the controller and go look yourself,” Rhiannon grumps, settling back further into the armchair.

“It could be pizza though,” Johnny says a moment later after a zombie tears his character’s head off and he has to wait for the reload.

“We didn’t order pizza,” Ianto reminds him, refilling his gun clip before taking out another scourge of the undead with a headshot.

“Oh.” Johnny’s voice is dejected, but it perks back up when he adds, “We should order pizza.”

Whoever is outside the door is pretty much leaning on the bell at this point, as it just keeps ringing, and since it seems both Rhiannon and Johnny are able to ignore the sound, Ianto eventually gives in.

“Here, fine,” he huffs, throwing the controller with a bit more force than necessary at Rhiannon’s lap. Rhiannon catches it before it can hit her. “I call dibs when you die, though.”

“I’m not going to die,” Rhiannon insists, a statement at odds with the fact that on-screen she is being chewed up by at least two zombie dogs. “You didn’t pause it!” she screeches when Ianto points this out to her with a laugh.

“Hey, while you’re up, order pizza,” Johnny shouts after him as Ianto makes his way into the front hall.

“If I do, you know I’m only ordering veggie!” Ianto calls back while swinging the door wide. Johnny shouts something about how if Ianto’s so gay, you’d think he’d at least be down with sausage, and it is with a laugh and a smile that Ianto turns to greet whoever’s at his door.

It dies in his throat when he sees Jack, leaning against the frame looking tall and lean and gorgeous, and smirking down at him.

“Sounds like I showed up just in time,” Jack teases, eyes flickering up to look into the house before settling back on Ianto’s face. “Have you been having naughty fun without me, tiger?”

“What? No!” Ianto splutters. “What are you doing here, Jack?”

Jack’s cocky smile falters a little but just as quick, it’s back to blinding and he’s stepping into the house uninvited, slinging an arm around Ianto’s shoulders to turn him and kicking the door shut behind them.

“What, can’t a guy just come visit his boyfriend because he wants to? Does there have to be a reason?” he asks nonchalantly, as if he comes to visit Ianto all the time and his showing up out of the blue isn’t unexpected.

“Somehow, I think with you there’s always a reason,” Ianto mutters, making Jack chuckle.

“Ianto, who was it?” Rhiannon calls without taking her eyes from the TV when Jack steers them both into the living room.

“Me,” Jack says, startling the pair enough to have them both turning despite the fray of blood and violence on-screen. “Hey, having fun?”

“What are you doing here?” Johnny asks a little defensively. Ianto rolls his eyes, knowing Johnny is mostly still mad that Rhiannon got to go swim in the Harkness pool the other week and he wasn’t invited.

Jack shrugs and pulls Ianto in a little closer as if trying to remind Johnny what he might be here for with proximity alone. “My mum and sister are going nuts with wedding planning, and it was driving  _ me _ nuts so I thought I’d come visit.”

“Couldn’t you just, like, avoid them or something?” Rhiannon asks, turning back around and taking advantage of Johnny’s distraction to unpause the game and collect the medi-pack Johnny had been heading for. “Your house is huge.”

It’s a good point actually, and Ianto turns a considering look on the boy next to him. Jack looks a little uncomfortable again but Johnny saves him from having to answer with a smirk and a wink. “Rhi, obviously because he can’t get laid at his house.”

“Johnny, that’s my brother you’re talking about,” Rhiannon complains, shooting glares at both Johnny and Jack.

Johnny shakes his head laughing. “Hey, but before you guys get your mack on, order that pizza, would you? Killing shit makes me hungry.”

“No! You can’t go have sex while we’re  _ here _ ,” Rhiannon insists hurriedly. “That would be so weird, and the TV only goes so loud.”

“Oh, I can think of a few ways to keep your brother quiet,” Jack teases, laughing when Ianto and Rhiannon both turn twin shades of red.

Rhiannon recovers first and prompt makes everything colossally more awkward. “I don’t know about that, I came home early once accidentally, and let’s just say that Ianto isn’t very quiet.”

“He probably already knows that, idiot,” Johnny says, lightly hitting Rhiannon on the thigh before grinning at Ianto evilly. “Besides I have it on good authority that Lisa used to have him not be very quiet in school, too.”

_ Lovely _ , Ianto thinks, ignoring the look Jack is giving him.  _ Just when I thought I might be able to spend the afternoon not thinking about Lisa, Jack, or sex, and in a matter of minutes these idiots bring up all three. _

By some miracle, Jack decides to take mercy on him instead of perpetuating the conversation. “Actually,” he says, pointedly glaring at both Rhiannon and Johnny until they sheepishly turn away. “I came to take Ianto out for coffee.”

Ianto doesn’t know if the coffee thing was always Jack’s plan or if he’s just giving Ianto an out from the teasing and now less desirable company of the couple, but either way, Ianto latches onto it.

“Yes, coffee, let’s do that,” he agrees, stepping out from under Jack’s arm and moving to the cupboard under the stairs to slip on his shoes. “And you can order your own damn pizza.”

Johnny gives him a wounded look but gets distracted by an explosion in the game and misses Ianto’s eye roll.

“Will you at least bring me back one of those big cookies?” Johnny asks after he’s dodged the crater left by the grenade on-screen.

“We’ll bring you two,” Jack says quickly when Ianto opens his mouth to retort. “C’mon Ianto, let’s leave them to their game.”

Ianto hmphs, but acquiesces and lets Jack steer him out toward the front door with a hand on his back.

“You didn’t have to agree to bring them cookies,” he says once they’re outside and walking side by side toward the Rover parked on the street. “Especially since they were being assholes.”

“Ah, but that’s the beauty of it,” Jack says smugly, moving around to the driver’s side and shooting Ianto a wink before climbing in. “This way, when I  _ don’t _ bring them cookies, the disappointment will be crushing.”

“I’d argue your use of ‘crushing’ as being a tad overdramatic,” Ianto laughs. “But with those two, it’s probably mostly accurate.”

“See, and on top of it, I made you smile despite their asshole-ness so it’s a win all around,” Jack tells him, throwing the car into gear and pulling out onto the street.

Ianto smiles again despite himself and tries not to think of Gwen’s words about reading into things. It’s hard though, with Jack sitting so close, to not think. Jack who looks somehow even better now - casual and easy in the front seat of the car with the sun shining in on him - than he did the other night dancing under coloured lights. Jack who Ianto still very much wants to touch, even without the influence of two long island iced teas.

With that though, all of Monday night comes flooding back to the forefront of Ianto’s mind, and suddenly, he can’t stop fidgeting. He’s done such a good job not thinking about it, and so of  _ course, _ he remembers just how brazen he’d been when he’s sitting next to the very guy he threw himself at shamelessly. Clearly, the universe hates him.

And Jack is just being so seemingly calm about the whole damn thing, that Ianto can’t help but feel like he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. Is Jack just saving up all his best insults until he has Ianto in a public place? Did he drive all the way to his on a Wednesday just to mock Ianto for his ridiculous behaviour and come ons? ( _ Oh God, he’d asked Jack to  _ **_mark_ ** _ him! How embarrassing and obvious is that? _ )

But Jack hadn’t refused either, though that doesn’t help Ianto’s frame of mind much. After all, maybe Jack was just humouring his drunk arse, and it was easier to kiss him to shut him up or something. Or maybe the whole encounter was so fucking typical of a Monday night in Jack’s world that it didn’t even register as a blip on Jack’s radar. Maybe kissing Ianto had just been blasé, or worse boring.

“So why  _ did _ you come all the way to this side of the city?” Ianto asks a few minutes in when the silence becomes too much and his internal tension reaches a breaking point. “I’m sure it’s not because you missed me.”

Jack’s eyes stray to him quickly, before he focuses back on the road and gives a little laugh. “No, of course it wouldn’t be  _ that _ .”

He doesn’t elaborate until Ianto gives him a pointed look and makes a ‘go on’ motion with his hand. Better to get the mocking over and done with now than waiting until they’re in a coffee shop if Ianto can help it.

“River and Mum  _ were _ being crazy,” Jack says almost defensively, and if Ianto didn’t know better, he’d think Jack was a bit nervous himself. “And given a choice between crepe paper and your company, you won out. Barely.”

“Gee, thanks,” Ianto says sarcastically, shields still up. “But really, as good as an iced coffee actually sounds right now, you didn’t have to drive here to buy me one-”

“Who says I’m buying?” Jack interrupts, though he gives in with a chuckle at the bitchy glare Ianto sends his way. “Okay, okay, I’m buying.”

“ _ So _ ,” Ianto continues, watching as Jack signals and turns smoothly into the coffee shop’s car park. “Why did you come, really?”

“I was bored, we’re friends. Isn’t that enough?” It sounds a little like deflection, but Ianto can’t quite say why.

“Yeah, sure,” Ianto says after a minute, letting it go for now. Maybe they just won’t have to talk about it at all, though that thought is strangely as dissatisfying as the thought of being teased. Jack just grins at him again, and Ianto returns the smile, if a little shakily, while they unbuckle and climb out of the car. “But you’re buying  _ me _ a cookie,” he adds, trying to keep up his end of the easy banter, at least for now.

Jack does buy him a cookie in addition to their drinks and doesn’t even tease Ianto or any other nonsense. He also tips the barista which Ianto grudgingly admits to himself raises Jack in his esteem just a smidge. They settle into some of the overstuffed chairs by the window (which is new, he and Lisa always sat at the tables) and sip at their drinks in strained silence before Jack sighs hugely and speaks.

“Look, I’m sorry if the other night was weird, but if that means the rest of the summer is going to be all awkward between us, just yell at me now and let’s get back to normal, okay? I never thought I’d say it, but it’s kinda strange sitting here without you bitching at me.”

And, well. That’s certainly unexpected. Ianto hadn’t thought that Jack might be worried about the potential fallout from their… encounter… as well. He’s stunned into just staring, trying to work out what it is Jack thinks Ianto ought to be yelling at him  _ for _ (he was the one who threw himself at Jack, after all). It seems Jack is more nervous than he’d previously let on though, because he’s already talking again.

“And, look, I know Mark said some things - I don’t even think I want to know  _ what _ he said to you before I got there either - but I don’t want you to take anything he said too seriously, alright? He just likes to talk, and he and I aren’t always on the best of terms, so I don’t want you to take his word as gospel or anything and-”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Ianto interrupts, putting down his drink and holding out a hand to stop Jack’s quick words. “You think I’m upset about Mark?”

“Aren’t you?” Jack asks, looking at Ianto like he’s suddenly not so sure what it is they’re talking about either.

“I mean, yeah, for the whole trying to seduce me in a bathroom thing. But not because of anything he said about you. Why would I be upset about any of that?”

He’s wracking his brain trying to figure out just what Mark might have said to get Jack worked up into a near tizzy but for the life of him all that he can remember are bits and pieces.

“So… you haven’t been worrying about talking to me about what Mark said?” Jack hedges. “Because you’ve looked like you wanted to be anywhere but next to me ever since we got in the car.”

“Oh, um,” Ianto says, blushing a little and a hand straying unconsciously to his neck where he’s wearing a collared shirt to cover up the fading bite marks. “It’s not about Mark. I don’t even remember most of what he said, to be honest.”

Jack visibly deflates at that, muttering something that sounds suspiciously like ‘ _ Thank God _ ’ under his breath, but before Ianto can question him, Jack’s mouth quirks up in a wicked smirk and he’s leaning forward to leer at Ianto.

“So what  _ is _ it that’s got you so nervous about being near me, then?” he asks, though it’s perfectly obvious from the look in his eye that he knows just what Ianto is thinking.

Ianto knows he’d never get away with a deflection at this point, and he’s not about to back down from the implied challenge anyway, so he steels his spine and says, “Oh, I don’t know, I guess I was worried you might be upset that I was a hotter commodity than you on the dance floor. And that I’m definitely a better kisser.”

When in doubt, go on the offensive.

“Well, you were certainly  _ hot _ ,” Jack agrees, not missing a beat as he settles back in his chair looking content to play this game. “At least I assumed so considering you were the one who started stripping off your clothes in the middle of the dance floor.”

Ianto can feel heat spreading along the back of his neck, because oh right. He had kind of done that, hadn’t he? But he won’t concede defeat so easily.

“From what I remember, you didn’t seem to mind so much,” he says as flippantly as he can manage. “At least if the way you were grinding on my arse was any indication.”

“Well, it is quite the arse,” Jack says conversationally, and something in Ianto relaxes just a little at the offhand compliment. Maybe he hadn’t been entirely ridiculous in Jack’s eyes then. It also lets him lower his shields enough to bring up the kissing, though whether it’s to apologise for overstepping or in search of some form of affirmation that it hadn’t been unwanted and sucky, he isn’t really sure.

“I’m sorry if I, um, pushed you into anything,” he says, not quite able to look into Jack’s eyes.

“Pushed me into anything? Seriously, tiger? Because I’m pretty sure there wasn’t anything that happened between us on Monday that I wasn’t on board with. Or was there a particularly good portion of the evening in which we fell into an alternate universe where I somehow didn’t want a hot guy to make out with me that I’m not remembering?”

“You think I’m hot?” Ianto asks before he can help himself.

It’s Jack’s turn to look a little red and be unable to meet Ianto’s eye, and that is maybe exactly what Ianto needed to soothe his own worried ego, though he’ll never admit it to the other boy.

“Whatever. We were drunk, we kissed, it was hot. Can we move on or do you need to talk about your feelings or whatever?” Jack grumbles and Ianto laughs.

“No, I’m pretty sure that’s all I wanted to know,” he teases, nudging Jack’s foot with his own. Jack nudges back and doesn’t pull away, leaving their toes pressed together across the space between them.

“Good, then how about you tell me what exactly Johnny meant when he said you needed to get on board the sausage train,” Jack says with a smile. Ianto groans and kicks him, and then proceeds to bemoan the woes of having a protective boy in his life who since dating his sister has taken on an older sibling role.

After that conversation flows easily between them, teasing and banter putting them back on an even keel until Ianto realises he hasn’t stopped grinning in over an hour. It doesn’t matter though, because Jack hasn’t either, and as long as Jack keeps smiling like that, Ianto can live with the want thrumming through him, urging him to just lean in and kiss those tilted lips (not that he’s about to act on it at the moment).

Eventually they finish their drinks, the ice long since melted away, and with no more excuse to linger, wander back out to the car. Jack starts fidgeting a bit on the drive back to the house and Ianto isn’t sure if it’s because he’s looking for an excuse to go or one to stay. Ianto’s about to call him on it, but when they pull into the driveway, he’s distracted by the fact that Johnny and Rhiannon are both leaning under the hood of Johnny’s old car and arguing fiercely.

“What the hell?” Ianto mutters, because as far as Ianto knows, Johnny and Rhiannon don’t really know much about cars. Rhiannon had been around for the many summers where Ianto and Ifan had worked on cars in their spare time so she knew the basics, but not enough to go poking under the hood. Ianto suspected that fixing up cars was a way for Ifan to try and make sure his kid didn’t turn out gay.

“Trouble?” Jack asked, voice amused and grin widening at Ianto’s ‘ _ what do you think? _ ’ look. If nothing else it saves them from having to have the awkward goodbye and/or would you like to come inside to talk as they both climb out of the Rover to investigate.

“Do I even want to know what it is you’re trying to do?” Ianto asks as he comes up behind Johnny and Rhiannon, trying to get a peek inside at where they’re elbow-deep in engine guts.

“Ianto, thank God,” Rhiannon sighs, stepping back to gesture vaguely at what looks like an engine with virtually every cap uncapped, every valve pulled open, and every belt misaligned. “Johnny said his engine was making a ticking sound, and he thought maybe we could figure out what was making it but…”

“But instead you’ve just started pulling out bits and pieces?” Ianto asks wryly, eyebrow arched in silent judgement.

“Um,” Rhiannon says, shuffling from foot to foot like a child being scolded. “Yes?”

“This was a good idea, how?” Ianto asks, poking at Johnny’s back until the boy turns around with a scowl.

“I’ve been working at the shop and thought I could try,” Johnny says defensively. “And Rhi said she helped you and your dad with those cars you worked on!”

“I told you I would  _ try _ to help!” Rhiannon grumps, shoving Johnny’s shoulder and leaving an oily handprint behind. Johnny shoves back, and it starts escalating into a full on tussle (if with no real ill-will). Ianto sticks his fingers in his mouth and whistles loudly, startling them into stopping,  _ thank God _ before they get any of their oily limbs near him. Jack looks impressed at the whistle, and amused overall, and Ianto shares an exasperated eyeroll with him before turning back to the problem at hand.

“Okay look, I’m going to go change into something I don’t mind destroying, and then I’m going to fix this for you.” Rhiannon looks thankful and Johnny looks relieved, but it doesn’t stop Ianto from leveling them with his most intimidating glower, pointing a finger at them both and saying sternly, “Don’t. Touch. Anything. You hear me? Wait until I get back, or you’ll only make it worse.”

Both of them nod sheepishly and Ianto gives them one more look before turning to the house and waving at Jack to follow along behind him.

“ _ You’re _ going to fix it?” Jack laughs as they troop across the path toward the front door. “Seriously, tiger, it’s cute that you want to impress me but you don’t have to destroy Johnny’s engine trying.”

“First of all, if I was trying to impress you, it wouldn’t be with this,” Ianto says, giving Jack a withering look. “Because considering you chose your car based on paint colour, I’m guessing you aren’t going to understand enough of what I’m doing to appreciate the miracle I’m about to pull on that engine. And secondly? Your confidence in my ability to break stereotypes is astounding. Really, thanks for that.”

Jack snorts and bumps against Ianto as they walk into the house and start to climb the stairs. “Alright then my little grease monkey, I guess you’ll just have to prove me wrong.”

Ianto sniffs and sticks his nose a little higher, because  _ oh _ does he intend to.

When they reach his room, he kicks his shoes off into a corner and drops his light summer coat onto his bed before turning to consider Jack’s outfit.

“The shorts should be okay, if those get ruined it’ll be no great tragedy, but I’ll have to find you an old t-shirt or something.”

“Wait, you want me to help you?” Jack says disbelievingly. “I thought you just said I obviously know nothing about engines, why would you think I can help at all?”

“Help? Maybe not,” Ianto says, stepping into his closet to begin sorting through the clothes to find older stuff. “But you  _ can _ learn.”

Jack just makes another little doubting sound, but he catches the dark blue t-shirt Ianto tosses at him. “Put that on while I change,” Ianto says, closing the closet door behind him to give himself some privacy.

“You know, it’s nothing I haven't seen before,” Jack calls through the wood.

Ianto shrugs, though there is no one to see him do it, and calls back, “Doesn’t mean you get a free show!”

Jack laughs at that, and Ianto finds he’s smiling again as he pulls on a pair of faded and torn old blue jeans and an oil-stained white t-shirt with a hole near the collar. He runs his fingers through his hair in a vain attempt to fix it from where the shirt’s mussed it, though he knows it probably only makes it more disheveled.

“You know generally I’m good enough to have people offering to pay  _ me _ to watch them take their… clothes… off…” Jack starts, stuttering to a stop when Ianto exits the closet and he gets his first real look.

Ianto fidgets uncomfortably under Jack’s open-mouthed stare for a minute, too aware of Jack’s eyes dragging over him hotly to even appreciate the fact that Jack has paused with his own shirt only halfway pulled down his body. (Okay, he appreciates it a little.) When Jack just continues to look though, Ianto steps forward quickly and tugs the material the rest of the way down over Jack’s torso, fingers lingering lightly at Jack’s warm waist for a moment before he drops the shirt all the way down and steps back again.

The touch seems to have brought Jack back to the moment, because he clears his throat and manages to tear his eyes away from Ianto’s body to focus on his face again. When he speaks though, his voice is a little rough and sends tiny licks of fire to burn low in Ianto’s belly.

“I never expected you to keep grease-stained clothes,” he says, eyes doing another sweep of Ianto’s form almost involuntarily.

“They’re good to keep around for emergencies like this,” Ianto replies, though the sassy note in his voice drops to a fading whisper at the end when Jack steps closer, seemingly ignoring his words to focus his gaze on Ianto’s neck. Ianto belatedly realises that in ditching the shirt, he’s also exposed the lightly fading bruises that Jack had sucked into his skin just two nights ago.

He can’t stop the hitch in his breath when Jack lifts a hand, dragging his thumb over the marks and using his fingers to cup around the base of Ianto’s neck. He brushes over them again and again, eyes riveted, and Ianto is sure the room is a full twenty degrees warmer than it was a second ago. Logically, Ianto also knows that the marks are not all that sensitive anymore, but it’s like he can feel them branding into his skin anew with every pass of Jack’s thumb.

Jack’s eyes lift to meet his own, and they are dark, pupils wide and black against the sharp blue of his irises, and Ianto couldn’t look away now even if he wanted to. When he leans in, Ianto’s eyes flutter shut in expectation of a kiss, but Jack dips lower instead, brushing his mouth over the largest mark right at the place where his neck becomes shoulder. Ianto’s sharp inhale is the only sound in the room as Jack ghosts one, two, three kisses over the spot before pressing in harder and sucking lightly at the flesh there, pulling back only when Ianto’s knees are trembling and the mark is dark once more.

“ _ Cap _ ,” he says, voice raspy and low and eyes flickering between Jack’s lips - red and shining wetly - and those dark eyes. The name pulls a growl from Jack’s mouth, and he leans in to kiss Ianto ( _ finally, finally _ ), but their lips have barely even touched when Ianto’s bedroom door slams open and Rhiannon appears, red-faced and panting, causing them to jump apart.

“Ianto- oh shit, sorry,” Rhiannon yelps, backing up quickly and knocking into the doorframe. She winces and rubs her elbow, looks up then down at the carpet again quickly, and generally fails so much at becoming invisible that Ianto has to take pity on her.

“What did you need that couldn’t wait another two minutes, Rhi?” he asks, pleased when his voice sounds mostly steady. Jack is staring at the wall just to the right of him, arms tightly crossed over his chest and looking nearly as uncomfortable as Rhiannon.

“Uh, Johnny’s touching the engine again,” Rhiannon says sheepishly. “I tried to stop him, but he didn’t listen.”

“Right, fine. We’re coming,” Ianto says. When Rhiannon doesn’t move, Ianto sighs exasperatedly. “We’ll be down in a minute.” Rhiannon still isn’t moving, just staring at the carpet and trying not to look at either of them. “So you can  _ go _ ,” Ianto hints, and finally, Rhiannon seems to get it, scurrying quickly out the doorway with another apology tossed over her shoulder as she disappears.

“Well, that was awkward,” Ianto says, forcing a laugh and turning back to Jack who is smiling wryly though whether it’s due to Rhiannon or Ianto, or even himself, Ianto isn’t sure.

“I planned it so my mum walked in on us nearly naked, tiger,” Jack says, sounding mostly normal himself. “I don’t think this even hits the low end of our awkward scale.”

Ianto laughs brightly, pleased when it pulls a more honest smile from Jack in return, though it fades a little when the sound dissipates and it is just the two of them staring again.

“So that was-” Ianto says, trailing off because he really has no idea  _ what _ that was.

Jack hesitates for just a second, something flashing in his eyes, but then he’s smiling brilliantly again and the something is replaced with a more familiar teasing glint. “That was PTMD.”

“Excuse me?” Ianto says, laughing a little again, though he doesn’t yet get the joke.

“PTMD, Post Traumatic Makeout Disorder,” Jack says, nodding sagely like it is a very serious thing indeed. “You know, like a flashback. That’s all.”

“A flashback?” Ianto says sarcastically. “So what, you saw the hickeys and suddenly thought you were drunk in a bathroom at a bar?”

“Something like that,” Jack hums, a smile peeking through in the twist of his lips when Ianto rolls his eyes.

“You’re an idiot, you know that, right?” Ianto teases, turning to the door now that it’s clear whatever that moment really was, has passed and they aren’t going to talk about it (or do anymore kissing, apparently). “And by the way,” he adds, when Jack joins him to walk side by side down the stairs, “making out with me is  _ not _ traumatic.”

“Says you,” Jack teases back. “I’ve been having nightmares ever since.”

Ianto scoffs and pinches his arm in retaliation, laughing when Jack yelps indignantly. When Jack reaches down to tangle their fingers together again, he doesn’t protest it though, just allows himself a private little smile as they step back out into the sunshine.

\-----

It turns out Jack is exactly as useless under the hood of a car as Ianto had expected. All it had taken was a nearly catastrophic encounter with the live battery terminals to have Ianto yelping and relegating Jack to wrench-holding duties for the rest of the afternoon.

On the plus side, he seems sufficiently impressed with Ianto’s own automotive skills, so Ianto figures he can stick around even if he’s only good for looking pretty and handing over things that are pointed at.

The first order of business is to put to rights all the things that Johnny and Rhiannon managed to pull apart or undo before Ianto arrived, and Ianto makes all three of them gather around and watch as he reconnects hoses and tightens caps. He points out each part, explains to them exactly why they were so stupid to have touched it, makes sure Jack promises never to do anything of the sort to his own car (or God forbid his father’s) and then shows them how to fix it. Rhiannon is probably only picking up every third instruction or so, and Johnny keeps posturing and claiming to have already known what Ianto is telling them, but Jack watches attentively and winks at Ianto when Ianto turns a look full of exasperation about the other two toward him every few minutes. All in all, it’s rather fun.

“You know you really are a little bit impressive with all this stuff,” Jack tells him grudgingly, trailing Ianto into the garage to grab two car boards so that they can get a look at the underside of the car.

“Well I should be,” Ianto says with no small amount of pride. “I’ve only been doing ‘this stuff’ since I was thirteen.”

“Why did you learn to do it?” Jack asks, grabbing one of the boards from Ianto’s hands.

“Didn’t really have a choice,” Ianto says with a shrug. “After we fell out, my dad became determined to teach me what his father had taught him about how to pull apart and fix a car. I’ve been practicing my skills ever since, even after he stopped forcing me to do it with him.”

“Oh,” Jack says softly, and when Ianto looks over, he can see that Jack has probably figured out exactly why his dad suddenly wanted to teach him about cars.

“Yeah, I think he did it in the hopes of turning me straight,” Ianto replied just as softly.

Jack’s look turns almost pitying, and Ianto definitely does not need that.

“Don’t,” he says firmly, grabbing the board back from Jack with a little more force than necessary.

“What?” Jack asks, but he’s using this falsely soft tone that is not at all familiar.

“That,” Ianto says, kicking out with the toe of his show to catch Jack’s ankle and rolling his eyes. “Don’t go acting like a human being to me just because my dad is homophobic. I’m still the same person I was five minutes ago.”

Jack looks like he wants to say something. Probably along the lines of he already knew Ianto’s dad was homophobic, but he keeps his mouth shut. “Right,” Jack says, giving Ianto a level look and then shaking off the rest of the sympathy from his face, replacing it with a more familiar grin. “Silly me. Acting like a  _ human _ . Jeez Ianto, here I was about to say that all this mechanic stuff is super hot, but if you’re gonna be an asshole about it…”

“And here I thought you were a fan of assholes,” Ianto says, tongue peeking from between his teeth. When Jack looks shocked at the lewd tease, Ianto laughs brightly and hands back over the board. “C’mon, I’ll let you look under my chassis,” he adds with a wink.

After thorough questioning, Ianto’s determined that the ‘ticking’ noise Johnny was complaining about was actually more of a rattling sound, and as it tends to happen upon acceleration Ianto’s best guess is spark knock. He’s already shown the boys how to clean the EGR valves and check the knock sensor, but when Johnny drives around the block, it’s still making the sound, so Ianto’s now underneath the car, showing Jack where they’re going to drain the radiator to check for a blockage. It probably isn’t strictly necessary to be under here, but he’s maybe showing off just a bit, and besides, there is something a tiny bit intimate about lying shoulder to shoulder in the shadow of the engine block, legs sticking out and warmed by the late afternoon sunshine and faces just inches apart as Ianto points out different engine components.

He trails off in his latest edification effort when he realises that Jack isn’t looking where he’s pointing any longer and has instead turned his head to the side to study Ianto’s face.

“What?” Ianto asks self-consciously when Jack just continues to stare at him unabashedly.

Jack smiles at him and reaches over as best he can in the cramped space to wipe at what Ianto assumes must be an oil smudge on his cheek. His fingers linger for just a minute before he drops the hand back to his side, but he keeps looking at Ianto, and something is shifting in his eyes again and making Ianto’s stomach feel fluttery.

“You know the other night, when you asked me if I thought you were ‘boy pretty’?” Jack begins, voice quiet enough that Ianto knows Johnny and Rhiannon can’t hear him from where they are still arguing near the front of the car.

Ianto’s face flushes and he looks away, that particularly embarrassing moment coming back to him in a rush. “Oh God, I knew you not teasing me was too good to last,” he sighs. “Well, go ahead, get it out of your system.”

“No, it’s not that. I just… I should have told you then. That I do, I mean, I think you’re boy pretty.”

“Oh,” Ianto says on a surprised little exhale, turning to look at Jack again who suddenly seems so much closer in the small space.

“I know I tease, a lot actually, and I know I’ve said some things in the past but… I do,” Jack continues, and Ianto can feel Jack’s hand lying so close to his against the pavement that all it would take is just the tiniest twitch of his fingers to be holding it again.

“Jack,” Ianto says, voice soft and hesitant because something warm and wonderful is blooming in his chest but he’s still hearing Gwen’s words in his mind saying  _ don’t read too much into things _ and  _ I worry about you letting your heart get involved with someone who has no use for it _ , and he has absolutely no idea what this means or what to do.

“Ianto,” Jack says back almost teasingly, and that hand is reaching back up to cup Ianto’s flushed cheek. He’s only barely brushed his knuckles along Ianto’s cheekbone though when the sound of a car engine approaching gets louder and then cuts off somewhere down the drive and pulls both their attentions. Jack smiles at him and runs his hand over his face one more time before pulling away.

“What’re you lot up to?” Ifan’s voice calls, followed by the sound of a closing door and a heavy step up the drive.

“Ianto’s fixing Johnny’s engine,” Rhiannon supplies, to which Johnny grunts indignantly and amends, “I’m  _ letting _ Ianto  _ help _ fix my car.”

“Uh-huh, sure thing, Johnny,” Ifan says with a sarcastic little chuckle. “Hey kid, how’s it looking under there? And hello Jack, I expect when you roll out from under there you and my son will look suitably non-disheveled, right?”

Ianto rolls his eyes while Jack chokes back a laugh, and they both push out from under the car and back into sunlight to find Ifan looming over them with an arched eyebrow that proves he’s Ianto’s father more than anything.

“Hi, Mr. Jones,” Jack says, earning a surprised look for the nicety from all the teenagers gathered. Ianto’s pretty sure he’s never heard Jack call anyone Mister before, hell, he barely manages to call people by their  _ actual _ names most of the time instead of some insulting appellation he’s picked out.

“Hey kid,” Ifan says, looking grudgingly impressed. “You might as well call me Ifan, though, seeing as how you’re comfortable enough spending the night in my house and all.”

Ianto flushes, but Jack just smiles cheekily (that’s the more familiar boy Ianto knows). Johnny is looking between them like he’s going to start asking for details to  _ that _ particular story soon, so Ianto cuts in before he can make things awkward.

“I think Johnny’s radiator might be plugged,” he says, pushing off the ground to stand and brushing his palms against his jeans before offering Jack a hand up. Jack doesn’t drop the hand even once he’s standing, and though it’s making Ianto feel even more off-balance given their most recent exchange, he can’t exactly pull away in front of his dad (and he’s wondering if he’d want to anyway which opens up a whole new set of questions he’s going to have to ask himself sooner rather than later).

“Take ‘er to my mate’s shop tomorrow and we’ll see what we can do,” Ifan says, clapping Johnny on the shoulder. “But why don’t you kids head in and clean up for now? Glenda’s on her way back from work, and she’s picking up pizza on the way.”

“Yes!” Rhiannon shouts in triumph, fist-pumping the air and then high-fiving an equally enthused Johnny.

“You staying too, kid?” Ifan asks Jack, eyes drifting down to where the boys are still holding hands briefly, a slightly surprised expression crossing his face before he schools it back into a smile.

“Uh,” Jack says eloquently, looking between Ianto and Ifan like he’s not sure of the answer. Ianto can count on his fingers the number of times he’s seen Jack flustered (and all of them lately, now that he thinks about it) so he’s tempted to let him squirm, but that stupid confusing warmth under his ribs isn’t letting him.

“You should stay,” he says quietly, squeezing Jack’s hand in confirmation. “Feeding you is the least I can do after putting you to work all afternoon.”

“It’s not like I was such a huge asset,” Jack snorts, grinning again anyway and swinging their hands between them as they follow Ifan into the house. “All I did was hand you shi- stuff when you asked for it.”

Ianto raises an eyebrow at the self-censoring but doesn’t comment on it, instead teasing, “Well, you looked pretty doing it.”

“Well damn, Ianto,” Ifan interrupts, and if the glint in his eye is any indication, Ianto’s pretty sure he just swore on purpose. “You finally found someone willing to be your assistant, huh?”

“What?” Jack asks confusedly.

Ifan laughs a little, “Ianto was always trying to get Lisa to stand still long enough to do that when he worked on his own car, but that kid couldn’t manage for more than five minutes before she got distracted and did something else.”

Ifan pauses then, seeming to realise he’s maybe said something he shouldn’t have with mentioning Lisa. Even Jack’s smile looks a little frozen in place as if he, too, is waiting to see how Ianto will react. Ianto is surprised to find that it doesn’t hurt quite as much as it used to, hearing Lisa’s name unexpectedly like that, and while it does send a sharp little pain through his heart, the sting is soothed some by the warmth of the afternoon and the fingers interlaced between his own.

“Guess it’s a good thing Jack’s gullible enough to fill the role then, huh?” he says with a smile that’s only the tiniest bit forced. It seems enough for the two men though who both relax imperceptibly as they step into the house.

“Guess so, kid,” Ifan echoes, giving Jack consideration like maybe he’s missed something there before. “I guess so.”

\-----

Dinner is surprisingly easy. Jack is the right mix of polite and charming, complimenting Glena and telling her about how his mother is looking forward to getting together to drink wine and talk books sometime soon, talking with Rhiannon and Johnny about video games, and engaging Ifan with stories about his dad’s misadventures with the barbecue so far this summer that have the older man laughing so hard Ianto’s a little afraid he’s going to choke.

It is bizarre, this side of Jack. Ianto’s not sure he’s ever seen the boy schmooze so hard, and he’s still not quite sure why Jack’s doing it now. It’s almost like he  _ cares _ what Ianto’s family thinks of him, and that makes Ianto’s throat get tight and his heart beat a little faster, and it is not going a long way toward helping him convince himself that this newly recognised attraction to Jack is entirely physical and nothing more. It certainly doesn’t help that Jack keeps giving him these little private smiles every now and then, like he and Ianto are in on some big secret together and it feels delightful.

It gets to the point where Ianto is half-tempted to crack an inappropriate joke himself just to even things back out, though he can’t quite make himself break into the harmony of things.

“What are you playing at?” he whispers discreetly instead during one of the few times Jack isn’t mid-conversation with one of his family members.

Jack’s smile falters a little, and he looks a little unsure for a moment, but like always, manages to snap his grin back into place before Ianto can be certain, “What do you mean?”

“You’re being so… so  _ nice _ ,” Ianto hisses around a smile of his own. “I mean, you were polite enough at your dad’s birthday, I guess, but this is really laying it on thick, don’t you think?”

Jack’s expression stiffens, and again if Ianto didn’t know better, he’d think he might have offended him. “Well, excuse me for trying to make a good impression,” Jack spits out through gritted teeth, smile less genuine and more tight now when Glenda offers to refill his drink. “Would you prefer it if I mentioned to your father how I’d like to fuck you over the table instead?”

Ianto gives him a sharp look, as the words were clearly intended as cruel instead of flirty, but he drops the glare almost immediately, realising that it’s his fault things have got contentious. Maybe Jack  _ was _ just trying to be nice.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, reaching over to grab Jack’s hand under the table and squeezing it in apology. “I shouldn’t have… well, I shouldn’t have said anything. You’re being perfectly wonderful, and I was an arse about it. So I’m sorry.”

Jack’s fingers lay limply under his own for a long few seconds before he sighs and turns his palm up to squeeze back. “It’s not like I know how to play the boyfriend act,” he mutters, darting hesitant eyes up to meet Ianto’s own.

“Well, I really am sorry I got snippy, because you’re doing it perfectly,” Ianto assures, smiling softly again.

“Yeah?” Jack asks, and though Ianto’s pretty sure he meant it to sound cocky, it mostly sounds questioning.

“Yeah,” Ianto promises, squeezing Jack’s hand one more time.

He can’t quite calm his thoughts though, and the rest of the evening he feels increasingly aware of the fact that Jack  _ is _ behaving perfectly, and yet it all feels too genuine to be completely an act. The whole thing makes it entirely too easy for Ianto to imagine what family dinners would be like if Jack really  _ was _ his boyfriend, and that brings up a landslide of unexpected images. Christmas dinners, with the two of them back from university for the holidays. Fridays during the weeks they’d manage to skip a class or two and come back for a surprise visit. Maybe even birthdays, all of them gathered around a lighted cake and singing ‘ _ Happy Birthday _ .’ All images that Ianto has never pictured with anyone but Lisa before, and the way that Jack’s face has so easily slipped into place is frankly a little overwhelming.

Ianto’s not even sure he manages to keep up his end of the conversation for the rest of the meal, though no one is looking at him too strangely so he must be doing okay. He is just entirely too busy fighting the buzzing warning in his head and the butterflies in his gut that are feeling alternatingly frighteningly more familiar and stomach-churning. Because he’s realising that he’s gone from not being able to picture the future at all, to suddenly seeing it too clearly. The problem is there are two versions of it. In one, warm dark eyes and a bright smile greet him across the table, and in the other sharp blue eyes and a smirk are aimed his way. He’s frankly not sure that he wants  _ either _ quite yet, not if it means feeling this overwhelmed and dizzy.

All he knows for certain, by the time he walks Jack to the door and accepts the mandatory brush of a kiss goodnight with all his family looking on, is that he is suddenly, completely and totally, in over his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks as always to my cheerleader temporalsilence and my beta princessoftheworlds
> 
> now, i've never been the biggest fan of gwen, so this has really been about me trying to get a voice on her character, and i hope i did her justice. tbh, ianto needs a friend like gwen, sometimes, who will push when he needs to talk. rhiannon is a similar personality but she knows the entire history with jack and ianto (from ianto's pov) so she knows doesn't want to push ianto at all. tosh is just that silent friend who would rather sit with you in comfortable silence and distract you from your problems. i hope you're liking the way i'm characterising their young selves :)


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time for Jack and Ianto's last dance class. Surely they'll have learnt something by now?

Friday finds Ianto fidgeting in the front hall, more nervous than he has been in weeks about one of these planned outings with Jack.

He’s spent a day and a half frantically trying to figure out just when he was stupid enough to go and start falling for the boy, and also firmly reminding himself that Jack has made it very clear that they are only friends. Every time his mind starts to doubt this, bringing up all the ‘what abouts’ it can -  _ What about that almost kiss in the bedroom? What about dancing in the club? What about Jack’s new penchant for hand-holding? _ \- Ianto is ruthless in giving himself a dose of reality -  _ He was just reliving the fluke attraction of the other night. He was just drunk and on an adrenaline high and you were there. He’s just got better at playing the boyfriend game _ .

His mind is a battlefield of doubts and the doubting of doubts, a tangled knot of emotion, assumption, action and words all contradicting each other and confusing his head and his heart.

Still, he’s tried at least to outwardly look just as put-together as he always does, if maybe a bit spiffier than usual. He’s reasoned it out as being because it  _ is _ their last ballroom lesson after all, but the truth of the matter is, he’s mostly chosen the outfit - slim black trousers, wine-coloured shirt and a well-tailored waistcoat - because he knows he looks amazing in it and he maybe sort of wants to see if Jack might think so too.

So he’s still not sure what to do - or even what he wants to do - about all his new feelings, confused as they are by the lingering worry that he’s reading too much into Jack’s actions (not to mention his own not-quite resolved feelings for Lisa). What he does know, though, is that he likes the time he spends with Jack, likes the way it feels when they touch and kiss, and now - thanks to Wednesday - he also knows he likes very much when Jack swallows back the insults every once in a while and offers compliments instead. Mostly he just likes Jack, as scary a thought as that is to admit.

So maybe, probably… okay  _ definitely _ , his entire appearance tonight has been built around getting more of Jack, in any way he can.

Jack’s rap at the door interrupts his thoughts. He forces a smile onto his face, hopes it doesn’t look as nervous as he feels, and opens the door. Any nerves are completely knocked away, along with his breath, at the sight that greets him. Jack looks, well,  _ stunning _ , and Ianto can’t even speak for a few long seconds as he drinks him in. He’s suddenly very glad he put in some extra effort himself.

It is very much a departure from Jack’s typical dance class attire, which has thus far consisted mainly of ratty cargo shorts and short-sleeved shirts. The boy on his stoop however is dressed to the nines in a stylish yet still somewhat casual royal blue suit that looks like it’s been cut especially for him, with a cream-coloured shirt underneath that just highlights his tan, which has darkened over his skin as summer wears on. Ianto is not ashamed to admit that he’s staring, because some things were meant to be appreciated and Jack in a suit is one of those things.

“Hey, boyfriend,” Jack drawls, smirking at Ianto devilishly. It is a familiar grin, one that used to cause a flare of anger in Ianto’s stomach, but now, there is just a slow burn heating his blood, and  _ fuck _ , feelings make everything more complicated, don’t they?

“Hi,” Ianto returns, and it may sound a little like the dreamy sigh of a preteen girl, so he quickly clears his throat and speaks again, tone more clipped this time to cover it up. “You don’t look like you just rolled out of bed for once. What’s the occasion?”

Jack looks down at his outfit, and Ianto watches as a flicker of doubt flashes over Jack’s face before it is schooled back into a grin. “Oh, this old thing?” Jack says and Ianto rolls his eyes at the tired line. “Do you like it?”

“It’s a nice departure from your usual poolside chic at least,” Ianto allows, not quite willing to admit just how very much he likes it. Of course, that plan goes to hell when he adds before he can help it, “It looks good on you.”

“You know I could say the same to you, tiger,” Jack adds, eye wandering over Ianto’s outfit just slowly enough that Ianto knows Jack is trying to make him squirm a little.

“I  _ always _ look this good,” Ianto responds flippantly, though inside he can’t help the happy flip of his stomach at Jack’s approval.

“You always look  _ something _ at least,” Jack teases, laughing when Ianto glares and shoves at him until they are both standing just outside the door.

Any comeback that Ianto might have had is wiped from his mind when he sees what is parked in his driveway. “No way,” he breathes, looking from the Aston Martin’s shining polished surface to Jack’s face and back again. “No fucking  _ way _ .”

“What that old thing?” Jack repeats, poking at Ianto’s side to get his attention again. He’s smiling, but he still looks a little unsure, as if he honestly isn’t positive that Ianto will approve of his plan. As if Ianto’s unending pleading over the past few weeks of ‘ _ just once, come on Jack please just ask  _ **_once_ ** _ if your dad will let us take her out _ ’ hasn't been proof enough of what his enthusiasm would be. Hell, if Ianto hadn’t already admitted to himself that he likes Jack, he’s shallow enough about his obsession with Bond to think this probably would have got him there anyway.

“I can’t believe you brought it,” he says, dimly aware that he is clutching Jack’s arm in disbelief and excitement. He makes himself loosen his grip a little so as not to wrinkle the blazer (not even the car can completely distract him from just how good it looks, and he doesn’t want to mar it unnecessarily). He manages to tear his eyes from the car, gazing back at Jack with undisguised awe and excitement, and Jack’s hesitance seems to have cleared because he is grinning at Ianto fondly.

“Well, it’s our last class,” Jack says with a shrug, though his smile gives away the affected nature of his nonchalance. “I figured it wouldn’t hurt to celebrate our impending freedom from the torture that is Jenny and Kieran.”

Ianto grins back and tugs him down and toward the car, rushing over to run gentle fingers along the bonnet. “I can’t believe I’m finally getting to ride in this thing,” he says giddily. “My dad is going to be so jealous!”

“Actually,” Jack interrupts, shifting a bit and glancing at Ianto almost shyly. “I thought you might like to drive.”

Ianto’s mouth drops open in shock, and he stares for a few long seconds before launching himself forward and throwing his arms around Jack’s shoulders. He can’t even find it in him to worry about the embrace or if it is somehow overstepping some invisible boundary that still exists between them, not when he is nearly exclaiming in excitement. There is one tense moment when Jack freezes under the assault, and Ianto wonders if he’s about to be pushed away, but instead, Jack softens almost at once, his own arms coming up to circle around Ianto’s waist and pull him in tight, laughing quietly into Ianto’s ear.

“I take it you approve of the idea?” he teases, arms looped around Ianto firmly even when Ianto leans back a little from the embrace.

“I  _ definitely _ approve,” Ianto agrees happily. He beams, and Jack is smiling right back at him, and it’s only then that he really takes in the intimacy of their position. Jack’s face is inches away, blue eyes sparkling with laughter and affection, and Ianto finds that his heart is suddenly pounding for more reasons than the promise of driving the car behind him.

There is a moment, one small moment, when Ianto is sure Jack is going to kiss him. Ianto shifts just a little onto the balls of his feet in preparation for pushing back into it, and he sucks his lower lips into his mouth in anticipation. Jack is staring at his mouth, eyes going a darker blue, and Ianto almost initiates a kiss himself. But then Jack’s grip around his waist is loosening, he’s stepping back almost reluctantly, and the moment is over. Ianto reminds himself not to be disappointed, that it isn’t Jack’s fault Ianto’s suddenly realised all these new inconvenient feelings.

“Here,” Jack says, breaking the awkward silence by tossing the keys in his hands to Ianto who catches them neatly. “Just be careful with her, okay? If something happens, I’m pretty sure my life will be forfeit.”

“Well, we can’t have that,” Ianto responds, unlocking the doors and opening the driver’s side almost reverently. “Especially not since I’ve just started liking having you around.”

He’s so distracted by the slide into the buttery leather of the seat that he doesn’t think about the way the words (true, but meant as tease) might sound, misses the way Jack looks at him again, expression considering. By the time he’s turned a smile Jack’s way again, the expression is gone, replaced with one of playful warmth as Jack smirks at Ianto’s obvious delight.

The engine comes to life with a perfect purr, and Ianto bites back a groan of appreciation. She back out onto the street smoothly, all power and limitless potential under his control, and Ianto can’t help but sneak another look of uncontained joy Jack’s way before he accelerates down the road.

He really hopes there aren’t too many police on the roads tonight, because he may have to reign in his growing feelings for the boy next to him, but there is no way he’s holding back driving his car the way it was meant to be driven, fast and just a little wild. He wonders if maybe there is a metaphor in there somewhere for their relationship, but he lets the thought blow away when he hits the M4 going 70 and still gaining, Jack’s laugh filling the air around them.

\-----

Ianto is still practically vibrating half an hour into class, body thrumming with too many things.

It’s partly the left-over exhilaration from the drive (which had been made in record time, with luckily no speeding tickets), partly the way Ianto can’t quite seem to settle in his skin around Jack anymore, not after picturing him as so much more than a friend and sparring partner. Not with Jack looking so goddamn perfect, jacket discarded for the moment and sleeves rolled up to show off toned, tanned forearms, and the first two buttons undone revealing the hollow of his throat, shining just a little with sweat from the heat of the room. Mostly though, it is the way Jack keeps looking at him, as if he’s thinking something - words on the tip of his tongue - but not saying them aloud.

Ianto is entirely too caught up in worry about those unspoken things to dance well, and for once, it isn’t Jack who’s stepping on toes and throwing off their rhythm.

He can’t help it though; all he can think is that Jack has somehow seen right through him and is, any moment, going to tell Ianto that his silly crush is entertaining, but he doesn’t stand a chance. Worse, every time those eyes flicker over him, he can’t help the irrational hope that maybe Jack isn’t going to laugh, maybe he’s going to tell Ianto that he was wrong about just being friends and he feels it too. It’s all making him tense and uncertain, hesitating over steps and making his dance frame awkwardly wide in his attempts to not be too close - proximity is a danger thing right now, when all he wants to do is see if he can kiss away those unspoken words, or at least use his lips to mold them into things he wants to hear.

“This isn’t working.”

Ianto startles from his thoughts at Jack’s words and has a panicky moment of worry that he’s been thinking out loud. “What?”

“This,” Jack says, gesturing between them and stepping back from Ianto. “We aren’t dancing well, and it isn’t all my fault this time. What’s going on with you, Ianto?”

Ianto swallows back his relieved sigh and shrugs offhandedly, arms coming up to fold defensively across his chest as if that will somehow hold all this turmoil in.

Jack runs a hand through his hair in frustration. “Is something bothering you? Because it feels like you’re all tense around me, and I can’t figure out what I did wrong.”

“No, you didn’t do anything,” Ianto says with a sigh. He really doesn’t want to have this conversation here, doesn’t want to say that the problem is he’s spent the past forty-eight hours coming to terms with the fact that he  _ wants _ Jack to do something and is terrified both that he will and that he won’t. “We just can’t dance together is all. It’s been weeks of us stumbling around this room, so I don’t know why you’d think something was different now.”

“Because I’m trying now!” Jack insists, voice loud but not angry. He sounds nearly pleading, and there is an emotion in the blue of his eyes that Ianto cannot name.

“Problems, gentlemen?”

Ianto turns at a touch to his back, finding Kieran hovering over his left shoulder and grinning at them both. A quick glance at Jack’s face is enough to see that whatever Jack was feeling a moment before has been tucked away, shut down tight underneath a stoic glare.

“No, we’re fine,” Ianto says quickly. Any other day he might have enjoyed the weird posturing Jack seems to do with their teacher, but today, he’s pretty sure seeing Jack get possessive of him would only lead to an irrevocable admission of this newly-discovered attraction, and he isn’t ready for that.

“Are you sure?” Kieran asks, looking at Ianto kindly before turning the smile up in wattage and looking back at Jack. “Because it seems you both are still fighting the same issues that you brought to this class. I had thought by now, perhaps, you would have learned to trust each other.”

“Look, Keiynan,” Jack spits through gritted teeth. “This is a  _ dance _ class, not some stupid trust exercise, so I’m not sure what you’re trying to imply here but-”

“But it is exactly that,” Kieran interrupts, ignoring the insult completely. “The reason you can’t dance together is that neither of you is willing to back down and trust your partner.”

“Let me guess,” Jack says snidely. “This is where you tell me it’s my fault, right? That I can’t lead, so Ianto obviously isn’t able to trust me enough to follow.”

“No, not at all,” Kieran says, stepping around Ianto and up to Jack, placing a hand on his shoulder and lifting the other until he has Jack in position. Jack looks startled at the contact but stiffens his spine and doesn’t pull away. “Here, try with me.”

Jack seems like he’s sure this is some kind of trick but nevertheless steps forward on the next four-count. Surprise washes over his features when Kieran moves easily with the motion, and the dance continues smoothly for several steps until Kieran stops them. Ianto can’t keep the surprise off his own face either, because even though he knows he’s been off his game today, he really hadn’t expected Jack to be able to lead anything.

“Now you,” Kieran says to Ianto, turning and pulling him in, leading himself this time and smiling when Ianto follows easily. He doesn’t draw this out either, stopping them and moving to stand between the boys after only one set of steps.

“You see? It is the both of you that are causing the problem,” he says. All teasing is gone from his voice, and he is looking at them seriously. Ianto has a feeling he’s trying to give them a lesson in more than waltzing. “The leader must trust that their partner will listen to their signals and follow after, and the follower must trust that their partner will not leave them unsure of the way to go or let them stumble. You must both give up trying to control the other and trust that your partner will be there in the dance with you.”

Ianto looks warily at Jack and finds the other boy looking back at him just as cautiously. He hates that Kieran is right, because trust is just about the hardest thing for Ianto to give - he’s been let down too many times. How is he supposed to give up control here? Because it’s not just dancing, not really, and he is scared that if he gives into all of this, Jack is going to lead him somewhere he can’t come back from and leave him there alone.

“I can’t force you to trust,” Kieran says gently, a hand on both their arms pulling them together until they are facing one another and standing close enough that Ianto can feel the warmth of Jack’s breath faintly on his cheek. “Just like I can’t force you to dance well. As I told you that first day, dancing is like making love; it should not be forced but surrendered to. If you can just do that, then I think Jenny is right. You will move beautifully together.”

Jack is looking at Ianto with those same unspoken words, and this time, Ianto breaks the gaze. He feels more than sees Jack’s sigh as he steps back and puts some more distance between them. He hates the way it makes him feel, like maybe he’s failed some test, but it’s not his fault he’s fighting all these stupid feelings.

His eyes meet Kieran’s, who is looking at him with something too close to understanding for Ianto’s taste. He knows he’s being stubborn, knows he’s acting like a scared little boy, but everything is just  _ so much _ these days and the one place he was starting to feel safe, with Jack by his side, is now beginning to feel just as fraught with the possibility of hurt as everything else in his life.

Kieran smiles one more time, clapping a hand on Jack’s shoulder and saying, “Good luck,” before he moves away to help a lesbian couple who are trying to practice dips.

“God, could all of his trust metaphors be any more silly?” Ianto scoffs, trying to get back to the playfulness they’ve perfected in this room over the past few weeks. If he can just get Jack to make fun of their instructors with him, maybe he can avoid having to listen to the truth of their words.

“Yeah,” Jack says halfheartedly. “Especially since we both know if it was about trust, you and I might as well give up this whole dancing thing right now, huh? It’s not like you’re ever going to trust me to lead you anywhere good.” He’s wearing a self-deprecating smirk that doesn’t reach his eyes, and Ianto wants to tell him that trusting Jack is only half the issue. The other is trusting himself.

“It’s not-” he starts, stops when he can’t find words that don’t feel like they expose him too much. “It’s just dancing. The only reason we can’t do it is, because we suck at waltzing.”

“Says the guy who said he was amazing at this three weeks ago,” Jack teases.

“Fine, then it’s because  _ you _ suck,” Ianto teases back, and when Jack rolls his eyes and shoots him a playful glare, Ianto feels some equilibrium returning.

“My toes beg to differ, tiger,” Jack says, wincing dramatically as he flexes his foot.

“Hey!” Ianto laughs, shoving at Jack’s shoulder fondly. “Mine are  _ still _ recovering from that first class so you can just count today as payback.”

“Sure Ianto, whatever you need to tell yourself. Though I think I might have been safer with Rhiannon as a dance partner tonight, and I saw how awkward she was bumping into things, so you know that’s a risk I wouldn’t take lightly.”

“Oh, fuck you,” Ianto growls playfully, but he’s laughing again and soon enough Jack is laughing too and they’ve degenerated to pushing at each other between giggles.

And Ianto feels so much better. Because somehow in the past hour, he’s forgotten the most important thing, that no matter what he’s feeling and no matter what Jack is leaving unsaid, they are still Ianto and Jack and they’ve never been able to be awkward around each other for long. In the past month, they’ve somehow navigated their way from enemies to fake boyfriends to friends, and if they’ve been able to survive all that, then Ianto thinks maybe it is silly to not trust that they’ll be able to navigate whatever else is changing between them.

Eventually, they stop laughing, catching their breath as they come down, though when Jack looks at him again with honest affection in his eyes, Ianto’s breathing isn’t so easy to steady anymore. Even if he’s willing to try and not worry over it all, it doesn’t mean it’s any less scary to see Jack standing there and know that he wants from Jack something he isn’t sure Jack is capable of, or even willing to give.

“Okay, look,” Jack says after a moment, moving back in close and reaching for Ianto’s hips. “It’s like at the club the other night, right? We  _ know _ we can move together; we just have to put it to steps. It isn’t a question of if we can dance together, but if we can do  _ this _ dance together.”

“Jack,” Ianto starts to protest, because this is not at all like moving on the floor of the club, not like letting his body go under Jack’s hands and hips, letting himself feel the beat and Jack’s body and following along and… shit. It’s exactly like that, isn’t it? It is exactly like that night that made him realise his feelings weren’t so platonic. He let himself go, and Jack was there to catch him. So why does it feel so much scarier now?

“Ianto,” Jack says softly, pulling his attention back to where they are still standing so close. Jack’s eyes are almost pleading again, and Ianto feels like maybe he’s trying to voice those unspoken things with a look instead. “I’ve been practicing this for weeks now, so just… just let me try, okay? Give me a chance, let me lead.”

Ianto nods, not trusting his voice with Jack standing so close and looking at him so sincerely. It’s enough for Jack, who slides one hand up the side of Ianto’s body and down his arm, pulling his hand up until they are once again holding dance postures.

“Okay,” Jack repeats, and Ianto can see him counting out beats as a new song starts up. He takes those last few moments to commit to this, to give himself over to wherever Jack wants to move him. He gives up control - of the waltz, of his feelings, of it all - and they begin to dance.

Jack has a look of utmost concentration on his face at first, which makes Ianto’s lips tilt up into the barest of smiles. It is endearing, seeing him try so damn hard to get this right. And he  _ is _ getting it right - Ianto doesn’t know if it’s that in the end Jack’s learned to lead or he’s learned to follow, but they are moving across the floor smoothly to the crooning of Nat King Cole. Maybe it’s just that they’ve finally learned each other.

After one successful circuit around the room, Jack’s expression relaxes, brow unfurrowing and a smile taking over. He pulls Ianto in a little on the next turn, letting his hand drift from Ianto’s side until there is a warm pressure against Ianto’s lower back, holding him in, holding him close. Jack’s other hand tightens a little as well, just a quick squeeze where it is holding Ianto’s own, and Ianto can’t stop the little jolt his heart gives at the feeling.

The words of the song are filtering through the moment, settling around them and making it oh so hard for him not to read into the look Jack is giving him, as if he’s really seeing Ianto - as if that’s all he needs to see. Ianto is drowning in that look, going under surrounded by the warmth of Jack’s skin. He even smells warm, his aftershave something understated and just a little spicy that makes Ianto want to fight the catch in his throat just to breathe him in.

He’s so close; Ianto can feel the heat and presence of him through the thin barrier of his shirt, and it would be so easy to just step in even further, to rest his head against Jack’s and feel him, feel them, connected. He inches in without thought, and Jack doesn’t let him stumble, arm wrapping more firmly around his waist and holding him safe as they turn again and again through the steps of the dance. He is right there with Ianto, through it all, and Ianto wonders if Jack has just been waiting all this time to be given this chance. Just waiting for Ianto to let him in.

“Told you,” Jack says softly as the song winds down, lifting his arm so Ianto can spin neatly underneath it before Jack reels him back in, so close they are mostly holding one another now, dance frames forgotten. “We’ve got this, tiger.”

Ianto certainly hopes so, because there is no going back.

_ The moment I can feel that you feel that way too, is when I fall in love with you. _

\-----

By the end of dance class, Ianto can’t stop smiling, because they  _ do _ have this, the dancing thing at least. Once they’d got over their respective blocks, they’d only improved, managing to get through a whole set of songs with barely any mistakes. They aren’t the best dancers in the class, and their footwork is still basic at best, but they are finally  _ dancing _ and Ianto can’t help but feel a little giddy with it. Jack is smiling too, and shooting smug looks at Kieran whenever they spin by, so Ianto figures the night is a win all around

Jenny even looks near tears when she forces huge hugs that are at odds with her tiny body on them at the end and makes them promise that someday they’ll come take another class from her because she can’t wait to see how they move together after some more practice. They are both terrified enough of her intensity to promise, though the look they share after makes it clear that they have no intention of ever stepping into this overheated room again.

Ianto is more than okay with that; they can dance elsewhere after all. Jack’s already planning his big ‘I no longer suck at ballroom’ debut, gleefully going on about how he’s going to rub it in Gray’s face at the upcoming charity ball that the country club is throwing to benefit some hospital. Ianto interrupts long enough to point out that this is the first he’s hearing of any such event, and  _ really _ , if Jack expects him to be a plus one to these sorts of things, he  _ has _ to get better at giving Ianto notice. Jack pouts a bit at the reprimand, rolling his eyes and insisting to Ianto that he’s telling him  _ now _ , isn’t he? Ianto lets it go, because he’s kind of enjoying Jack’s good mood too much to dampen it with even teasing arguments.

They’ve been driving along the M4 as they talk, and when they come to a natural break in their conversation, Jack starts to fidget. He alternately stares at the road before turning back to look at Ianto and biting his lip. Ianto wipes suddenly sweaty palms against his trousers as discreetly as he can and tries not to anticipate anything.

“Do you want to-” Jack starts, “I mean, I was thinking…” He stalls out then, not meeting Ianto’s eyes and staring pointedly at the road ahead instead as if it is the most interesting motorway of all time.

“What were you thinking?” Ianto asks, staring at the side of Jack’s face, willing him to look back over. Jack’s been not saying things all night, and Ianto isn’t about to let him off the hook when he’s finally started speaking.

“Nothing, I was just… I was going to ask if you wanted to get dinner or something before we drive back to yours,” Jack says. His neck is turning a splotchy red colour, and Ianto feels like an entire swarm of butterflies has erupted inside of him.

“It’s probably a stupid idea,” Jack mutters when Ianto takes too long to answer. He turns to stare into the distance again, but Ianto touches his arm gently.

“It’s not stupid,” he says quietly. “That actually sounds… yeah, we could do that.”

“Dancing, even mediocre dancing, works up an appetite,” Jack insists quickly. “And I don’t really feel like fast food, so…”

“Jack,” Ianto says, smirking just a little. “I already said yes; you don’t have to talk me into it.”

“Right, good,” Jack says, and by now, the back of his neck is a bright, sunburned red in colour.

“So what do you feel like?” Ianto asks after they’ve driven a while in a weird tense kind of silence. “I know there’s an Italian place in the city that Gwen’s always raved about-”

“Actually,” Jack cuts him off. “I was thinking we could go for French food.”

“French?” Ianto asks, considering. “Yeah, okay, did you have a place in mind or should I google it?”

“Um, I was actually thinking we could go to that place I told you about,” Jack admits. “You know, the one where we - ah - supposedly went on our first date?”

“Oh!” Ianto says, surprised because he hadn’t thought Jack had an  _ actual _ restaurant in mind when he’d made up that little fact about their dating history.

“It’s just that I thought that way, if it ever came up, you’d actually be able to talk about it because we’d have actually been there.” Jack looks over nervous, fidgeting a little again as if he’s worried he’s opened himself up too much.

“Right, sure, that makes sense,” Ianto agrees hurriedly. In his mind, all he can think though is that Jack is taking him to their fictional first date spot, for a very real dinner, and he has  _ no _ idea what it all means.

“Okay, good. It’s in the centre of town, down by the memorial. Shouldn’t take too long.”

“Yeah, sounds good.”

\-----

When they arrive at the car park near the restaurant, they get out of the car in comfortable silence. For a second, Ianto thinks Jack might take his hand, after all he hasn’t been all that shy about doing it in the recent past, but their fingers just brush together briefly as they start down the pavement before Jack is shoving his hands into his pockets. He doesn’t move away from Ianto though, and they walk the rest of the way close enough that Ianto can hear the whisper of fabric on fabric when their shoulders touch.  _ He never said this was a date _ , Ianto reminds himself more than once, because it is entirely too tempting to start wandering down that ‘what if’ path. He can still feel the phantom heat of Jack’s arms around him though, which is making it awfully hard to remember his ‘not a date’ mantra.

The restaurant is nicer than anything Ianto would have expected to find in this part of town. It is tucked in between a bookshop and a clothing shop, an unassuming brick front and standard black door giving way to an intimate space done in tasteful lacquered black and red, regular tables being the mainstay and booths tucked into the back. The place is also very full, and Ianto tries to ignore the hum of impending disappointment under his skin when he realises they are unlikely to get a seat anytime soon. It’s silly, but on the drive over, he’s become a little attached to the idea of having dinner here.

“Uh, will you hang my blazer up for me?” Jack asks, handing over the blue material and gesturing towards a coat rack on the far side of the check-in area.

“I don’t think we’re going to get a table, Jack,” Ianto says, taking the blazer anyway and giving the room another once over.

“Doesn’t hurt to ask, right?” Jack says, and there is something dodgy in his expression, but Ianto can’t narrow down what it might be about.

“Sure,” he says instead, tone low and a little suspicious. He moves to hang up the blazer and sees Jack conferring in low voice with the waitress near the front. He watches closely, waiting to see if there is an exchange of money or something that might win them an otherwise occupied table. If there is, he misses it, but the waitress is still smiling hugely over at him a second later and Jack looks smug so he figures some magic was worked.

“What’s the verdict?” he asks, joining Jack at the front again.

“The verdict is that you have the  _ sweetest _ boyfriend ever,” the waitress gushes before Jack can get a word in edgewise. She starts pulling Ianto through the dining room toward a table near the windows. “He’s a smart one too, calling a few days ahead for a reservation and all. No one can get a table here last minute on a Friday night!”

Ianto, who was just about to correct her false assumption about the boyfriend thing ( _ not a date, not a date _ ) stops mid-stride as her words sink in. Because you don’t call days in advance to make reservations for a ‘spur of the moment I happen to be hungry’ kind of thing. No way.

A look back at Jack who has been trailing behind reveals that he is now alternating glaring at the waitress like he wants to kill her and studiously avoiding Ianto’s eyes. His neck is red again too, visible even in the dim light, and Ianto has to blink rapidly as he takes in the fact that this ‘not a date’? Is maybe a little further from the ‘not’ part than Ianto originally assumed.

The waitress is still babbling as she gets them seated and hands over menus and a little paper sheet and pencil to mark their orders, but Ianto is far too caught up in the fascinating play of emotions -  _ embarrassment, defensiveness, hesitance, hope? _ \- over Jack’s face. Finally, she leaves them with another little grin over how cute they are, and Ianto turns an automatic smirk Jack’s way, hiding his own riot of emotions underneath the practiced look.

“She didn’t know what she was talking about,” Jack says immediately before Ianto can even open his mouth to start a tease.

“Oh, really? So I guess we just got lucky enough that some other guy with the oh-so-common name of ‘Harkness’ called in for a reservation at this exact time and happened not to show?” Ianto prods, trying to keep some of the delight out of his voice because, well, they  _ are _ friends so he’s not going to make fun of Jack. Too much.

“Guess so,” Jack says churlishly. “Maybe the bloke’s name was Harper, and she heard that instead of Harkness. That could happen.”

He looks so goddamn adorably embarrassed that Ianto decides to let it slide for the moment. Besides he’s feeling entirely too fluttery and warm at the thought that Jack actually  _ wanted _ to have dinner with him, enough to have planned ahead, to tease much. “Sure, that’s probably what happened,” he allows, keeping the sarcasm at bay and just grinning into his water glass.

Jack breathes out a sigh that sounds an awful lot like relief and finally meets Ianto’s gaze again.

“Right. Good. I think I need a drink.”

Ianto can’t stop his laughter from spilling over then, though he raises his hand to snap his fingers in the air anyway until the waitress begins to move their way. Jack lifts an eyebrow at the gesture but doesn’t comment right away. Ianto figures the poor girl is high enough on Jack’s shit list that he won’t mind Ianto being a little rude. He snaps a little louder.

“Really, Ianto?” Jack teases, and the lingering embarrassment in his expression is melting a bit. “Snapping?”

“What? She was annoyingly bubbly,” Ianto defends, wrinkling his nose distastefully in her direction.

Jack just levels him with another look and Ianto rolls his eyes. “Yes, fine, I know; it’s an awful habit. But what is it with everyone and snapping? Bogart does it in some old movie, and it’s sexy. I do it, and people look at me like I kicked a puppy.”

“First of all, this is my ‘you just kicked a puppy’ face,” Jack teases, pulling a horrified face and making Ianto smile despite himself. “And second, you don’t need any help being sexy, tiger, so you can leave the finger snaps to Bogart.”

Jack may be teasing still, but he’s looking over Ianto’s face again with that unnamed something and Ianto can’t help but think he maybe means it a little at least. He feels heat creeping up his own neck at the flattery and vows to never snap at waitstaff again as long as Jack keeps looking at him like this.

By the time the waitress reaches them, Ianto’s fingers are clenched together in his lap to keep them from doing something worse than snapping, like brushing against Jack’s own across the tabletop, and Jack is smiling again. Jack orders a bottle of wine, and they are able to pick out a platter assortment of small plates, without any more awkwardness or embarrassment, though Ianto’s palms are still itching for contact.

This ease lasts right up until the platter of food arrives, delivered by the bubbly waitress along with a small decorative plate holding what appears to be several pieces of ginger root carved artfully and impressively to look like roses.

“I thought you boys might like a little something romantic,” she says with a wink, nodding at the carved flowers. “And you two are just so cute I couldn’t help but bring some over. Flowers never hurt on a date, am I right?”

Jack is shooting an unnameable look across the table at Ianto, and Ianto is just waiting for the moment that Jack corrects her. Tells her in no uncertain terms that this is not a date, because they are not together. The moment doesn’t come.

“Thanks,” Jack says instead with a smile that only appears slightly forced. “They’re lovely.”

The waitress beams at him and shoots another wink at Ianto, whispering, “Hold on to this one,” before she scurries back to the kitchen.

Ianto looks at the little plate again out the corner of his eye and then at Jack, and bites the inside of his cheek hard to keep from saying something silly. Like asking ‘ _ is this a date? _ ’ Because okay, maybe Jack planned ahead to have dinner but that doesn’t necessarily make this anything more than a planned eating activity between two friends. Hell, he and Tosh and Gwen have these kinds of dinners all the time, and it never means anything. He and Lisa used to have dinners together as friends too, and look how reading into that had been a terrible idea.

But if this is just dinner, and not a date, why did Jack feel the need to hide the fact that he’d made a reservation? Why wouldn’t he correct the waitress’s assumption? (There is no one here they have to play for after all.) So maybe they are on a date, if an ill-defined one, but what the hell would that even mean? Does Jack  _ like _ him? Does Jack know that  _ Ianto _ likes  _ him _ ?

Too many questions are going through Ianto’s frantic head, beating out a rapid tattoo in time with his heart, and he isn’t prepared for this at all.

“Jack…” he starts, unsure of what it is he wants to ask. Because suddenly the  _ reality _ of dating Jack Harkness is starting to sink in, and that is scary and new. Ianto has just finally wrapped his mind around the idea of liking Jack, but thinking about acting on that feeling? That’s a whole different set of worries and wondering.

“You should eat,” Jack interrupts before Ianto can think of a way to continue anyway. “Before it gets cold.”

“The olives and hummus are already cold,” Ianto points out.

Jack doesn’t have a response to that it seems, which in and of itself is another thing that feels so different about this whole thing. He and Jack  _ always _ have something to say to each other, and for Jack to pass up the opportunity to bicker means that he’s trying very hard to be on his best behaviour. It’s too bad, really, because Ianto likes him most when he  _ isn’t _ on his best behaviour. He has no idea how to say that though, because he’s a little afraid what he’ll come out with is ‘Hey, just because this might be a date doesn’t mean you can’t fight with me,’ which is entirely too straightforward considering Ianto’s thoughts aren’t all that straightforward at the minute, and also a little weird.

Part of Ianto wants to push though, just wants to understand - more than anything - what is going on in Jack’s head and heart, but a larger part kind of just wants to enjoy having dinner with the guy he likes, and not muddle it up with awkward conversation about what it all means.

“I think I’ll take some of that wine,” he says instead. Jack grins for real then and pours some from the bottle into the wine glass by Ianto’s plate before filling his own. He raises his glass in toast, and Ianto quietly thinks ‘ _ to us _ ’ before sipping the drink. It is a little tangy but sweet and not at all what he was expecting, but it warms his belly in a way that has nothing to do with want and right now, that’s perfect.

They eat in silence for a few minutes, which has now turned more companionable. Ianto keeps stealing glances across the table at Jack between bites, catching Jack doing the same, and finally, he has to laugh at how very much like awkward fourteen year olds they are acting. Jack laughs too, and for a while, it feels nearly normal, just them again without the pressure of worrying about any significance this meal might have.

Jack starts poking fun at a couple seated on the other side of the restaurant who look like they are trying - and failing - to have a date night with a three year old in tow, and Ianto joins in with commentary until they have made up stories, insults, and jokes about nearly every other patron in the place.

He’s just turning back to the table a few minutes later, shifting from where he’s been craning his neck and trying to decide if the woman across the room is wearing shoes that have actual feathers on them (she is, though he’s not decided if it’s bold or terrible) to find Jack holding out something battered on his fork.

“It’s battered brie,” Jack says, leaning across the table to offer his fork to Ianto’s mouth. “It has a bit of a weird aftertaste, but with this chutney… You’ll like it.”

Ianto hesitates for a minute at the intimacy of the gesture. Jack’s eyes are soft, and he’s looking at Ianto like he knows just what he’s doing - like he’s fully aware that this is more than just friendly, that this is seduction and attraction and very much the kind of move you make when you want someone to like you. Ianto swallows heavily and presses his hands firmly to the tabletop to stop them from shaking before letting his mouth fall open.

Jack smiles then, bites his lip almost shyly, and moves to place the food on Ianto’s tongue. It is one of those moments that Ianto’s only ever experienced as a boyfriend before, when he and Lisa would feed each other bits of food before trading kisses, and he’s just starting to wonder if this exchange is going to lead to kisses as well when Jack’s eyes widen comically and Ianto watches wide-eyed himself as Jack fumbles the precariously balanced brie and it falls from his grasp and directly into the small bowl of sweet chilli sauce in front of Ianto, splashing it everywhere.

“ _ Fuck _ ,” Jack hisses immediately. “Shit,  _ goddamn _ it. Ianto, I…”

Ianto is staring in horror down at his outfit, now riddled with little orange-red spreading dots. Jack is still cursing lowly and is now moving from his seat toward Ianto while brandishing a napkin and apologising in between curses.

“I can’t believe- fuck, Ianto, I’m so sorry, here, let me-” he reaches for the water glass to drip the napkin and if it wasn’t so awful, it would be hilarious to watch as that too topples in almost slow motion, dumping its ice cold contents across Ianto’s lap. Ianto hisses in surprise and pushes back from the table, batting away Jack’s hands.

“It’s fine,” he says, still not fully capable of processing that fact that somehow just when things were really starting to feel date-like, it’s all gone completely wrong. “It’s  _ fine _ , Jack,” he repeats when Jack won’t stop babbling and trying to help. “Just let me go to the bathroom and uh, try to clean up.”

Jack nods in defeat, sinking back into his chair with a heavy sigh and burying his face in his hands like he can’t quite believe this turn of events either. Ianto pats him on the shoulder quickly in consolation, but really, the stains are setting in and the wetness spreading across his crotch from the water is  _ really _ cold so he doesn’t linger before dashing off to the bathroom.

He does the best he can, dabbing over the spots and soaking as much of the water from his trousers as he can. He’s already planning how to get the stains out, but it really isn’t so bad. In fact, it’s already feeling more funny than mortifying, though he’s not sure Jack is going to share in that assessment.

Once he’s got himself as put together as he can, he takes one last look in the mirror and finds to his surprise that he’s grinning like an idiot. He’s pretty sure it has something to do with the fact that, failed attempt or not, that whole feeding each other thing was definitely a point in the ‘this might be a date’ column, and scary and confusing though it may be, it seems he’s decided that being on a possible date with Jack is still something to smile about.

Jack doesn’t seem to share his good humour in the situation though. When he returns to the table, Jack has already paid the bill and is scowling at his own reflection in the window.

“You ready?” Ianto asks gently, trying to dim his own still-lingering grin because clearly Jack is not in the greatest of moods any longer and he doesn’t want him to think Ianto is laughing at him.

“Yeah,” Jack sighs, turning and giving Ianto an apologetic look again. “I will buy you new clothes I swear,” he promises as they stand and head back out onto the street.

“Unnecessary,” Ianto tells him, bumping his shoulder against Jack’s and fighting the urge to take his hand.

“So necessary,” Jack insists. “I can’t believe that happened. I promise you I am not that much of an idiot all the time.”

“Oh, I’m pretty sure you’re frequently an idiot,” Ianto teases, gratified when it gets him a tiny smile in return. “But, really, it’s fine. As far as dinners go, it could have been much worse.”

“Tell me one of these other awful dinners,” Jack presses instead, bumping back against Ianto companionably. “My ego could use the boost.”

“Well,” Ianto says with a grin, always happy to dish about other people’s failures in the dating department. “There was the time Tosh and Mary went to the fair together last summer, and Mary rode the waltzer fifteen times in a row. By the time they went to dinner after, she was green around the gills and ended up puking before the appetizer showed up.”

“Okay, puke definitely beats clumsiness,” Jack agrees. “But go on. I’m cataloguing all this information for future blackmail purposes, by the way, to use against your friends. Just so you know.”

Ianto rolls his eyes, though knowing Jack it’s probably at least a little true. “I don’t know,” Ianto says, and he can’t stop himself anymore from reaching for Jack’s hand. “I think maybe I’ll keep some blackmail material for myself.”

When Jack turns his palm at Ianto’s touch, catching Ianto’s hand up in his own, Ianto gets another giddy little grin. He’s glad for the deeper shadows as they turn into the car park that are keeping Jack from seeing the effect it’s had on him.

They finish the walk to the car in silence, Ianto enjoying just being close, though he can’t help but wonder if he’s going to get any more clarity on what this night was supposed to mean. He’s also hoping that he hasn’t vastly overestimated Jack’s intentions. He’s tried very hard all night to not let himself get his hopes up about what has seemed more and more like a real date but he knows, just from the way his stomach is in knots from the brush of Jack’s fingers, that it is a lost cause. Once Ianto Jones starts to like someone, it is very hard to tuck those feelings away.

“Do you want to drive home?” Jack asks, holding the keys out to Ianto in offering. Ianto can’t believe he’s about to turn down the offer, but the truth is, he isn’t so sure he has the concentration to drive back, not with Jack next to him, ( _ Jack who he just maybe went on  _ **_a date_ ** _ with _ ), who is smelling good and looking better and holding all the answers to Ianto’s tumultuous musings but offering none of them.

“You should drive,” he says quietly. “I, um, I think the wine might still be making me a little dizzy.”

Jack looks at him like he knows it’s an excuse, but in the end doesn’t call him on it. “Lightweight,” he says instead, smirking a little when Ianto rolls his eyes and slides into the car.

Things are quiet again between them for a while then, and Ianto can only assume that Jack is as lost in thought about how different things are starting to feel between them as he is. Still, he’s glad when they get out of the main city centre traffic, and Jack reaches over blindly and punches on the radio, filling the car with loud pop music and drowning out Ianto’s thoughts and the awkward silence surrounding them. He turns the music down enough to not be earsplitting and settles back in his seat, startling only a little when Jack reaches over and brushes a touch against his hand, almost a question though of what Ianto doesn’t know. Before he can turn, his palm in invitation or his head to look at Jack’s face lit up by the console, Jack has pulled back though and is staring out the windscreen with a carefully blank expression on his face.

He spends the next little while staring out the window and thinking entirely too much, mostly about what he wants and what he’s willing to risk for it. By the time they are nearer his house, his thoughts are no clearer, and of course, that’s when the song changes and an oh-so familiar melody starts to play.

_ What would I do without your smart mouth _

_ John Legend _ doesn’t get through more than half of the next lyric before he’s surged forward and changed the station. Jack looks at him a little funny, but Ianto just shrugs, “Not a fan.”

Jack eyes him for another moment before turning back to the road without comment. Ianto sighs in relief, which is short-lived when he realises the station he’s turned to is playing another familiar song.

_ And darling I will be loving you ‘til we’re seventy _

Damn Lisa Hallett and her penchant for pop music. When he slaps the dial again this time, Jack doesn’t let it go quietly.

“What’s with you? You don’t like this one either?”

“Something like that,” Ianto mutters then groans because no - there is no fucking way…

_ You and I, we’re like fireworks and symphonies exploding in the sky _

“This isn’t happening,” he mutters, turning the dial one more time.

_ Welcome back to Christmas in July. Coming at you now, that classic tune Baby It’s Cold Outside _

Ianto nearly chokes, though whether on a disbelieving laugh or a scream he’s not sure, and spins the dial until it hits white noise before turning it off completely.

“Okay, now you have to tell me,” Jack insists. “I mean, I get that you’re a rock guy, but you can’t possibly hate all those songs that much, and that last one wasn’t so bad.”

Ianto is tempted to insist that he does in fact hate all those songs and that’s all there is to it, but Jack sounds genuinely curious and besides if there is even the possibility of them starting something here, a ‘going on dates’ kind of something, he figures he owes it to Jack and himself to be honest.

“They’re Lisa songs,” he says hoarsely into the now-hushed darkness of the car.

“They’re what?” Jack asks with a laugh, like he’s sure he must have heard wrong.

“They’re songs that Lisa’s sung to me, or that we’ve sung together,” Ianto clarifies, staring out the window so as to avoid whatever look Jack is sure to be giving him. “ _ All Of Me _ is what she sang the first time I saw her on stage,  _ Thinking Out Loud _ was the first song we ever danced to, and  _ Sad Song _ was something she sang for me on our anniversary.”

“Even this Christmas one?” Jack asks quietly, like he already knows the answer.

“We, um, we sang it together the Christmas we were together. We were watching  _ Elf _ , and it became our thing.”

There is quiet for a few seconds, and Ianto wonders what Jack is thinking. Wonders if his thoughts could possibly be as confused and aching as Ianto’s own.

“You just can’t shake the girl, can you?” Jack says eventually in what is clearly supposed to be a playful tone but falls short of the mark. Mostly he sounds sorry, and maybe just a little rueful. “In the end, everything still comes back to her.”

Ianto doesn’t know what to say to that, because while he isn’t sure that’s strictly true anymore, he can’t really find the words to explain. How do you condense a relationship that’s lasted longer than a year into a few sentences? How do you tell someone that of course that person is going to be ingrained in you, but that doesn’t mean you’re stuck, doesn’t mean you aren’t willing to sand over some of those marks and imprint new ones. And how, especially, do you say all that when you’re only two days in to realising you even might want someone new?

Jack doesn’t seem to know what to say anymore either, and Ianto falls into a brooding silence to match the one beside him. He thinks about Lisa, and all those moments between them that carry a soundtrack. He thinks about Jack, who he may or may not have just gone out with, and with whom he carries enough history to fill a playlist but a very sad one. He wonders if this is the universe trying to tell him something, though if it is he really wishes the message could have come earlier, like before he went and got his heart involved.

It’s something to consider though, isn’t it? That being with Jack would be so different from being with Lisa. For one thing, he still isn’t sure just what it is Jack wants from him, if he’s looking for a dinner date, or someone to fuck, or someone to actually be with (or even all three). And while it wasn’t exactly clear at first what Lisa wanted from him either, he hadn’t had the additional worry of knowing Lisa was someone who didn’t want a relationship, period.

Lisa had always been into the idea of a partner, even if she hadn’t always cast Ianto in that role. Jack, on the other hand, has gone to great lengths to make it known that he’s into love ‘em and leave ‘em, if by love ‘em you mean a quickie in the bathroom. The whole reason they’ve got to this point this summer is precisely because Jack ‘doesn’t do partners,’ so much so that he’d rather pay Ianto £5,000 to pretend - and god, he hasn’t even thought about the money yet. That’s a whole new can of worms that he is so not ready to open - rather than date someone for real.

What it comes down to, Ianto resolves as they turn down his road and start the slow crawl to his driveway, is deciding just how far into this he is, and figuring out just how far into it Jack wants to go. And assuming Jack wants this to go anywhere at all, is Ianto willing to follow?

Jack kills the engine once they’re in the drive and stares out the windscreen quietly. As Ianto watches, he closes his eyes tight and chews on his lip for a moment before turning to look at Ianto with an almost wistful expression, like he’s already anticipating losing something he doesn’t even really have, and in that moment Ianto knows. Ianto is in this, smart idea or not, and now he can only see this dance through to wherever it ends.

He thinks Jack might say something to him then, but instead he just gives Ianto another tight smile and then climbs out of the car. Before Ianto can figure out just  _ why _ Jack might need to get out of the car (he’s never done anything but playfully kick Ianto out once they get to the house before), Jack is at Ianto’s car door, opening it wide and offering a hand to help him climb out. Ianto takes it in a bit of a daze, wondering if maybe he’s missed the part where a doppelganger came in for the evening to replace snarky, ungentlemanly Jack with someone who is acting very much like he’s just taken Ianto out for the evening.

Jack keeps his hand even after he’s standing, shutting Ianto’s door behind him and then walking with him up to the door. Ianto’s heart picks up speed again and he only hopes Jack can’t hear the pounding of it in the silence around them. When they reach the front door, Jack drops his hand, shoving both hands into his pockets again in that familiar nervous gesture.

“So, um, I’m sorry again. About the mess tonight turned into.”

Ianto shakes his head quickly, reaching out to squeeze Jack’s arm gently until the boy meets his gaze. “Don’t be. I had a good time.”

Jack looks at him like he’s trying to evaluate the truth of the statement, but he must read the honesty in Ianto’s face because soon enough, his own expression is lightening again into a real smile. “Yeah?” he asks, and Ianto can hear the need for maybe a bit more reassurance in his tone.

“Yeah,” Ianto confirms. He takes a deep breath then, considering this gorgeous boy before him who is looking a little vulnerable and a little hesitant but isn’t letting that bring his armour back down around him. It is such a change from the Jack in the coffee shop that first day, and something about that - the fact that Jack isn’t hiding behind posturing and snark tonight - makes Ianto want to take a chance. Even if he gets laughed at, he thinks maybe he needs to ask, needs to know what this was - and maybe even admit what he  _ wants _ it to be.

“Cap,” he starts, heart flipping when he sees the reaction that gets; Jack’s eyes widening briefly as he sucks in a sharp breath. Ianto’s about to say more, to say ‘Was this a date?’ or ‘Do you want to go out again?’ or something, but the light in the window of the living room flickers and cuts off his train of thought. His time it seems, according to his father at least, is up.

Jack seems to understand the flickering light’s meaning too (Ianto wonders how many times Jack might have been chased off into the night by fathers protecting their kids’ virtue before). He smiles a little ruefully at Ianto and shrugs in a ‘what can you do?’ kind of gesture before stepping back and into the shadows over the lawn.

“See you, tiger,” he calls as he strolls to his car, and Ianto thinks he might have let it end at that but for the look Jack gives him as he turns. He looks at Ianto as if he’s trying to remember that Ianto is something he can’t have. And Ianto, well. He doesn’t think he wants Jack thinking that.

He pivots on his foot without much more thought than that, dashing across the lawn quickly and catching Jack’s arm, turning him and stopping his retreat. He catches the look of surprise on Jack’s face briefly before he’s leaning in and pressing a quick kiss right to the corner of Jack’s mouth. It isn’t anything more than a brush of lips, but Jack feels warm and soft and right against him and even that little contact leaves his mouth tingling pleasantly and a warm glow of happiness in his chest.

“You forgot your goodnight kiss,” he whispers, smiling at Jack’s stunned expression even as he starts to back up toward the house again.

“Oh,” Jack says dumbly, raising a hand halfway to his mouth as if to press against the phantom sensation of Ianto’s lips still lingering there before he catches himself and shoves the hand back into his pocket. It makes Ianto laugh, and Jack ducks his head a little shyly and flips Ianto off, making him laugh even harder.

“Call me tomorrow,” Ianto says, demanding playfully.

Jack rolls his eyes at the tone, but he’s smiling again too. “Yeah, tiger, I can do that.”

They stare for a few seconds, goofy grins on their faces, before the light flashes a bit more wildly this time and breaks the moment.

“Tomorrow then,” Jack says, firm and like a promise.

“Tomorrow,” Ianto agrees, and with one last little wave, he jogs back to the door before his dad blows a fuse or something.

When Ianto manages to tear his eyes away and open the door for real this time, the sound of the engine purring softly behind him as Jack reverses back into the night, he thinks that of all the new developments tonight, Jack walking him all the way to his front door before leaving, may in fact be the most telling of all.

\-----

Ianto wakes up the next morning to a new text notification on his phone. He smiles in anticipation, thinking maybe Jack has already followed through, but it’s not from Jack. It’s from a different Harkness boy, a number newly saved in his phone since the night they hit the gay bar. It is simple, short, and entirely Gray.

**Gray** (9:32 am):  _ Hey sweetheart, how do you feel about pool parties? _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks as always to my cheerleader temporalsilence and my beta princessoftheworlds
> 
> i cannot thank nik enough for editing this so last minute! i usually give her a lot more time than the night before i post but this week has been so busy for me! so thank you so much nik! i hope you all enjoyed this! not going to lie, i was grinning like an idiot while typing this!


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ianto wakes up to that text from Gray about a Harkness pool party.

Ianto doesn’t respond to the text right away, mostly because he likes the thought of making Gray wait. He figures it’s payback for all the times Gray has tried to make him squirm, and he likes the idea that for once he isn’t the worm on the hook. Also, even though it’s not _really_ a question - not after last night, now now that he’s almost sure he and Jack have, at the very least, the start of something going - he’s still feeling a little nervous about the idea of a pool party. Wanting to see Jack again is winning out over his usual adamant avoidance of things like pools and sunburn, but only just, so Ianto’s taking some time to acclimate to the idea before responding in earnest.

Gray, it turns out, isn’t very good at patience.

The next text comes barely a half hour later, after Ianto’s just got out of bed and is contemplating whether he ought to go to the trouble of showering if he’s planning on swimming soon.

 **Gray** (10:15 am): _So? Party today? Yes?_

Ianto rolls his eyes and tosses his phone on the bed before heading into the bathroom - he may plan on possibly dipping a toe in later, but he’s determined there is no way he can show up at the Harkness house without being fully put-together. When he steps out of the steamy room a half hour later, he sees another text has come through.

 **Gray** (10:53 am): _Sweetheart, I love that you’re a tease, but really, you’re coming right?_

While he’s brushing his hair and trying to determine if he even owns a product that could stand up to a Gray party -

 **Gray** (11:12 am): _Iaaaannnntooooooo_

When he’s combing through his closet to see if he can find swimming trunks he hasn’t outgrown (last summer’s pair now exposing much more leg than he’s feeling comfortable with, due to the extra three or four inches he’s put on this year, but in the end they’re kind of his only option) -

 **Gray** (11:44 am): _Fine, I don’t want you at my party anyway. :(_

And finally, as he’s rubbing in a palmful of high quality, non-greasy SPF 50 sunscreen into his shoulders -

 **Gray** (12:12 pm): _I lied; it won’t be the same without you. Text me, asshole._

This last makes Ianto laugh, and finally relent. Well, somewhat. Instead of texting back, he thumbs through his contacts and taps Jack’s name. He’s grinning at the thought of how pouty Gray will get at Ianto going around him when Jack picks up.

“Ianto?”

“Your brother doesn’t do well without attention for long periods of time, does he?” Ianto asks without bothering with hellos. It’s not like he and Jack ever stood on niceties with each other anyhow.

“Not really, no,” Jack agrees, a hint of lazy laughter in his tone. “Though, I have to ask what brought on the revelation on your part. I wasn’t aware he was clamouring for your attention. Well, today, at least.”

“Oh, he’s just bugging me about coming to the party,” Ianto responds with a shrug even though there’s no one around to see it. “I figured I’d annoy him a bit more by calling you for all the details instead of texting him back.”

“The party?” Jack questions, sounding a bit more alert than he did a second ago. And wouldn’t that be just like Gray, to plan a party and not even tell his brother about it.

“Yeah, the pool party he’s throwing today. Guess I got invited before you did,” Ianto teases.

He expects laughter, or grumbling and the kneejerk jealousy that always seems to come when Gray is involved. At the very least, he expects a response. What he gets is awkward silence, and suddenly, that happy little bubble that’s been encasing his heart since last night feels dangerously close to popping.

“Jack?” he asks when the silence has gone on long enough that, if he hadn’t actually checked, he might have thought the connection had dropped.

“Yeah. Ianto…” Jack says, sounding a little miserable and a little guilty and very much like he’s already wincing in anticipation of some sort of reaction from Ianto to words he has yet to say. “I don’t think you should come.”

“O-kay,” Ianto says, drawing the words out slowly and trying not to read into anything too quickly. It stings already, but he’s trying not to get upset unnecessarily. Maybe Jack has a good reason for not wanting him to come. “Why not?”

Jack takes a breath and Ianto can picture him so easily, likely still sprawled across his bed, if the sleepy timber in his voice when he’d answered the phone was any indication. He can just see Jack, lanky and long, one hand rubbing distractedly through messy brown hair as he tries to think of how to answer.

“It just… I don’t think it’d be your thing,” he says eventually, and Ianto’s pretty sure Jack must know how lame and vague that sounds. But he’s not going to get upset yet, honest.

“I don’t know about that,” he responds, trying to keep his voice light and teasing and not let any of the hints of rejection beginning to build in his throat slip through, “I didn’t exactly think a gay bar was going to be my scene either, but we had fun there, right?”

“Not quite the same thing, tiger.” Jack sighs.

“So tell me what’s so different about it and let me decide for myself if it’s my thing,” Ianto pushes.

“It’s hard to explain,” Jack says evasively. “It’s just different, okay?”

“How different can a pool party be?” Ianto asks. “I’m pretty sure it’s going to have the same essential ingredients. Alcohol, people, music, and probably some hooking up in conspicuously public areas, right? And I may not be the most experienced, but I think I can handle that.”

“I mean, yeah, but it’s just-” Jack starts but Ianto cuts him off.

“And if it gets crazy, we’ll hide out in your room or something. Or, hey, if it’s that bad, why don’t you come hang out here for the night and avoid the crazy yourself?”

“Ianto, I-”

Ianto can hear the ‘no’ that’s coming before Jack has to say it.

“Jack,” Ianto pleads. He hates that he’s doing it, doesn’t even really know why it seems so important to him to be allowed at this party he doesn’t even care about. But he _does_ care about Jack, and Jack is telling him not to be there - is telling him he doesn’t even want to come _here_ instead. Little more than twelve hours after… after _whatever_ last night was, and Jack is already avoiding him.

“It’s not that it’s going to be bad, it’s-” Jack sighs again, sounding a little pleading himself. “Ianto, can’t I just call you tomorrow?”

“So much for calling me today, then, huh?” Ianto says, and he’s really fighting the urge to yell or cry and so figures his snippy tone is about as good as it’s going to get. “I honestly don’t see why it’d be such a big deal if I came over; I promise to not even pull out my judgey face at the awful music and bad drunk dancing that’s bound to appear. I’m not some blushing virgin, you know; I can handle a party.”

“I know you can,” Jack says, and his voice gets an edge to it that tells Ianto he’s not going to like the next words before they even come. “It’s not about you, or if you could handle it or would have a good time. It’s about me, and I don’t want you to come.”

“Oh.”

There is no argument for that, is there? Jack doesn’t want him there, nor does Jack want to come see him. Jack, it seems, just doesn’t want _him_ . Ianto feels embarrassment flare heat across his cheeks at the thought of how fucking _obvious_ his stupid little crush must have seemed last night. God, Jack must have been counting down the minutes until he could get away from Ianto - Ianto who reads into friendly dinners and required dance lessons, reads into someone being nice to him. He was so sure he’d outgrown that tendency after Lisa, was so sure he wasn’t stupid enough anymore to be taken in by a little bit of kindness, mistaking it for… for what? For _love_? Like Jack understands the meaning of that word outside of family.

In fact, now that he’s thinking about it, Jack probably is looking forward to getting some of _his_ brand of ‘love’ from some fucking random at the party tonight. All that talk about people changing, all those stupid words that Ianto has been trying so hard not to read into over the past few weeks - words that would have been so easy to make into hints at deeper feelings - well, in the end, they’re just words, aren’t they? And this is why Ianto didn’t ever give them much credence, because Jack has always been very good at _words_ , or at least the kind of words that don’t matter.

“Look Ianto, I didn’t mean-” Jack says into the silence, sounding strained and tired (it must be _exhausting_ , Ianto thinks sarcastically, dealing with people falling for you all the time and having to let them down).

“No, no, it’s fine. I get it,” Ianto cuts him off, trying to sound as nonchalant as he can and determined to not let more of his hurt show through if he can help it.

“Can I just call you tomorrow once what is bound to be a too crazy night blows over? Please?”

“Yeah, if you like,” Ianto breezes. “Though don’t feel obligated or anything. The next planned event isn’t until Friday after all, so you can just text me what time to be ready and I’ll see you then.”

“Ianto,” Jack repeats, and if Ianto didn’t know better (because he most certainly knows better now), he’d think Jack sounds genuinely distressed.

“Bye Jack, enjoy your party!” he trills with false happiness, just a little sharp but he can’t help it, before hanging up and turning off his phone.

He knows it’s childish, knows that, if nothing else, the friendship that has sprung up between them still feels real and deserves something better than him pouting just because he is once again on the wrong side of unreciprocated feelings (though given how upset Jack sounded about hurting him, there probably isn’t a _right_ side to these sorts of things).

It isn’t Jack’s fault, but it isn’t Ianto’s fault either, and he’s pretty sure that if he talks with Jack anymore today, he’s going to say things he regrets that really will damage things. So he’s just going to be childish for one day and ignore any attempt Jack makes to contact him, so that by next week he can put on a smile and mean it. (He doesn’t even allow himself to think about the fact that the dramatics might not even be necessary - that Jack might not even try to call him back or text him or anything. Because that hurt won’t do him any good today so he’s doing to push it away with all the rest.)

Ianto sits on his bed, stares at the wall and tries to convince himself that he’s fine. When he takes a deep breath in, though, all he can smell is the damn sunscreen on his skin, and he can’t handle that right now; it smells too much like the possibilities that summer is supposed to hold. He squeezes his eyes tight shut and clenches his jaw in frustration before steeling up the walls around his emotions and marching to the bathroom for a second shower, determined to wash away all his stupid feelings along with the scent of sunscreen.

\-----

Two hours later, he is firmly planted on the couch between Rhiannon and Tosh killing things. They’d been surprised when he was the one to request a game day and even more surprised to find him dressed in nothing but khaki shorts and a light blue t-shirt that were not very Ianto-like at all (comfortable though, which is what Ianto wanted with his emotions a mess) but hadn’t put up much of a fight. Tosh even brought over a pack of cider and barely batted an eye when Ianto popped the tab on one and chugged it down before the rest of the cans hit the coffee table. They’d both ignored Ianto’s mumbling angry words about how he was going to ‘ _show that stupid little Scot just how much party I can handle_ ’ too. Tosh just handed over a second cider and settled an arm around his shoulders as Rhiannon plugged in the console. It helped.

He’s three ciders in now - Rhiannon had sacrificed one of her own without a word - and just feeling inebriated enough to wonder if Tosh would be up for some light making out (his reasoning being, besides alcohol induced horniness, that Tosh’s not exactly hard to look at and Ianto is certain there is _no_ chance of falling for her; if that was going to happen it would’ve happened by now. Plus he feels weirdly like he’s in competition with some faceless boy at a pool party who he just _knows_ is kissing Jack at this very moment).

The sudden, and loud, rat-a-tat-tat on the door makes his heart lurch for a moment, remembering Jack’s unexpected arrival just a few days ago. He lets Rhiannon go to answer it though, and pushes down any hope and preemptive disappointment while simultaneously cuddling in closer to Tosh’s side. It is it Jack, maybe he’ll see just how fine Ianto is without him and his stupid parties. Tosh arches an eyebrow at him but doesn’t push him off. (She does, however, use Ianto’s distraction to deliver a killing shot to Ianto’s character’s head, and then crows about it. Loudly.)

Ianto can hear Rhiannon talking with someone in the entryway and then two sets of footsteps coming back, but he refuses to turn around and look until Rhiannon says, “Uh, Ianto…”

It isn’t Jack, though it seems Ianto is not going to be able to get through the summer without a Harkness boy showing up on his doorstep every other day or so.

“Gray,” he says coolly, or as coolly as he can with the alcohol buzzing through him. “What happened to the party?”

“I told you it wouldn’t be the same without you, sweetheart,” Gray says easily, though he is giving Tosh - who has an arm casually draped over Ianto and doesn’t seem to be aware of the fact that Ianto has nearly scooted into her lap with how close he’s been cuddling - a rather unhappy glare. “I don’t think we’ve met,” he adds, stepping forward and shoving a hand at Tosh to shake (and conveniently forcing Ianto to move back over to his own couch cushion).

“Tosh,” Tosh answers shortly with a matching glare of her own. “Who is this guy, Ianto? And why the hell is he calling you sweetheart?”

“Gray Harkness,” Gray answers before Ianto can even open his mouth. “My little brother is Ianto’s _boyfriend_.”

It’s pretty clear from the way he emphasises ‘boyfriend’ that he thinks Tosh is some kind of threat to Ianto and Jack’s relationship, and while Ianto is tempted to just think _good_ and leave Gray to run back home and hopefully tell Jack all about it (would he even be a little jealous?), the part of him not being influenced by three ciders and hurt feelings doesn’t want that at all. That part (his heart maybe…) has him standing from the couch completely and moving to Gray’s side to tug at his arm until he stops glaring at Tosh.

“That is my _very_ platonic best friend Tosh,” Ianto tells him. “And this,” he continues, poking at Gray’s arm and addressing his glowering friend on the sofa. “Is Gray, who has absolutely no place glaring at you for sitting next to me on the couch considering he’s propositioned me with worse himself.”

That maybe wasn’t the best to lead with, if the intensified glares from both Tosh and Rhiannon are any indication. Nothing for it now though, so Ianto just rolls his eyes at them both and ignores them.

“What are you doing here, Gray? I’m sure Jack told you he uninvited me, so really, there was no need to drive all the way here just to have to turn around.”

Gray gives one last petulant look to the girls and then turns a blinding smile Ianto’s way. “Well I wouldn’t have had to drive all the way here if you were actually answering your phone.”

“I didn’t feel like talking to anyone.” Ianto sniffs disdainfully, ignoring the expression of fond frustration that Gray gives him.

“God, no wonder you two are so good together,” Gray grins. “You’re both stubborn and stupid.”

“I’m not being stubborn about anything!” Ianto insists. “Jack’s the one who said he didn’t want me to come.”

“And I’m sure he managed to say it as vaguely and nonreassuring as possible,” Gray agrees happily. “Just like I’m pretty sure you didn’t even begin to think about _why_ he might not want you there.”

“Obviously because he’d rather have fun without me, seeing as he didn’t want to come here either,” Ianto says, though he’s not feeling so sure anymore.

“Or maybe, oh, I don’t know, it might be because, as far as I can tell, he’s been trying awfully hard to impress you ever since you started dating, and he’s afraid you’ll think less of him once you see the kind of shenanigans he used to get up to before you came along?” Gray says. “Plus, I hate to destroy the cute little snit you’ve got going, but the only reason he isn’t _here_ is that he doesn’t trust me at the house with that many people, his inner mum comes out or something and he feels the need to keep an eye on things.”

Ianto doesn’t say anything to that, but he doesn’t need to because Gray is smiling more softly and continuing. “From what I gathered by reading between the lines of the various insults and angry ranting he threw my way - after he got off the phone with you, by the way - you aren’t exactly familiar with, or a fan of, the scene Jack used to run in, and he’s convinced himself if you spend and significant amount of time with the people the two of us used to hang out with or see firsthand the things he used to do, you’re going to run for the hills. Apparently my inviting you to this thing without running it by him was a bad move.”

“It’s not like I thought he was some innocent before we started speaking, though,” Ianto insists, unwilling to accept this explanation quite so easily. “He’s never made a secret of his less-than-pristine history before, and I’m still around, so why would he care now?”

“Yeah, Ianto knows all about what an arse your brother can be,” Tosh interrupts, reminding Ianto that they still have an audience. “That sounds like a lame excuse to me.”

Gray doesn’t even bother acknowledging Tosh’s interruption, keeping his focus on Ianto. “Look, I’m not saying I understand the relationship you’ve got going with Jack completely, but I know the longer you two have been together, the more he’s been trying,” he says sincerely. “I’m also pretty sure that whatever it is you know about Jack and his past, you mostly know because he’s told you himself. And sweetheart, I hate to say it but in some cases, seeing really is believing. You may not understand why he doesn’t want you to get a first-hand look at the kind of mischief we used to get up to, but I’m telling you there _is_ a difference between knowing something objectively and seeing it play out.”

“He’s taken me to one of the bars he used to go to already, though,” Ianto argues. “So I’ve seen it play out some.”

“The gay bar in town?” Gray asks, laughing a little at Ianto’s surprised look.

“He told you we went there?”

“He said you headed there after your, ahem, _interlude_ in the backseat,” Gray teases with an amused look at the girls still watching their exchange. Tosh looks like she’s impressed with Ianto and Rhiannon just looks confused.

At least Gray’s words explain how Jack told him about their trip to the bar without it blowing their cover of ditching him to fuck. Not that Ianto’s quite sure how he feels about Gray thinking he’s the kind of boy to have sex in the backseat of a car (though now that he’s think about it, the thought isn’t all that unappealing… and that is so not where his brain needs to be going right now. Also, so not the point.)

“So, see, he obviously didn’t care about me seeing all that _first-hand_ ,” Ianto adds triumphantly, even though this isn’t an argument that he really wants to win.

“Yeah and look how well that turned out,” Gray snorts. “You ended up meeting one of his old cronies who, according to Jack, brought up their mutual past and then tried to come on to you in the bathroom. He almost got into a fistfight with the asshole, you know.”

Ianto appreciates Gray toning down the attempted assault into a ‘come on’ because there is no way Rhiannon would let that go. From the significant look Gray is giving him, it’s clear he knows it too. More important to Ianto though, is that Jack was seemingly more shaken by the whole Mark thing than he realised, if he’d felt the need to share the particulars with his brother. Which is certainly helping Gray’s argument that Jack cares about _Ianto_.

“Fine, so maybe I overreacted,” Ianto huffs, never one to back down willingly. “Still doesn’t explain why you drove all the way here to tell me so.”

Gray scrubs a hand through his hair and mutters something that sounds suspiciously like ‘ _fucking moody teenagers_ ’, but his smile for Ianto is still genuine so Ianto figures he hasn’t hit the upper limit of Gray’s patience with his sullen attitude yet. Which is good because he’s not so sure he’s done with it. Just because Jack might care doesn’t mean that he isn’t having all kinds of fun with the ‘mischief’ going on at the party right now.

“I’m here because I got tired of Jack glaring at me and mumbling that I was ruining his life, in between dialing your damn number so many times that I’m surprised he hasn’t broken his phone yet.”

“Ianto, he’s not lying,” Rhiannon speaks up. She’s huddled next to Tosh on the couch, and Ianto sees that somehow they’ve acquired his phone and are staring at the screen. “You have like forty-eight missed calls.”

“To be fair, three of those are from me,” Gray smirks, grin widening along with Ianto’s eyes.

“Should I… you want me to call him, then?” Ianto asks, still a bit confused as to why Gray would leave his own party to drive to Ianto’s just to tell him to turn his phone on.

“No, I want you to come back with me,” Gray says, tugging Ianto toward the front door. “When I left - what was turning into a truly excellent party, by the way, so you should be grateful, I don’t even want to think about all the fun everyone will have had without me by the time I get back - Jack had locked himself in his room to pout in earnest, and I’m pretty sure a phone call isn’t going to cut it at this point. Seeing your pretty face ought to go a long way towards getting me off his shit list, though.”

“Wait!” Ianto squawks, pulling his arm from Gray’s grip. “I can’t just go to the party _now_.”

“Why not?” Gray asks. “You’re already a few ciders in from what I can tell, so you’ll be closer to caught up with the rest of the revelers than I will be.”

Ianto flushes at the knowing look Gray gives him, because he was so sure he’d been hiding the slight inebriation pretty well. Good thing his dad isn’t around today, because apparently he has no poker face at all when it comes to alcohol. Again though, that’s hardly the important point.

“You just spent ten minutes arguing with me about why Jack might legitimately not want me at this thing, and now you want to drag me to it, anyway?” Ianto asks incredulously.

“Yeah, plus if you’re taking him, you have to take us, too!” Tosh insists, jumping over the back of the couch to stand next to Ianto. When Rhiannon gives her a questioning look, she hisses back, “ _A pool, Rhi. Also there could be cute people there_.” That seems to be enough for Rhiannon who flanks Ianto on the other side.

“Yes, fine, whatever, you can come, too,” Gray says, waving them off before giving Ianto another look, this one evaluating. “Look Ianto, my brother may be worried about what you’re going to think of him, but I don’t think you’re going to run. I’ve watched you, you know, and you don’t strike me as the kind of guy that scares easy, or the type of person who can’t understand that people’s pasts don’t always define them. So I guess what I’m saying is, I think you’re smart enough to know that a party is just a party, and that you won’t use it as a reason to ditch my brother.”

“I won’t,” Ianto says quietly. “I never would have.”

“I know,” Gray says firmly before cracking another smile. “Because if you did, I’d have to hunt you down and kick your arse.” He’s still grinning but Ianto knows he means it, and strangely, it actually makes him feel good knowing that Jack has someone who would go to the mats for him.

“So, now that we have all this goddamn emoting and explaining out of the way, what do you lot say we have some fun?” Gray says then, rubbing his hands together excitedly and getting grins from them all.

\-----

Gray was not kidding about the party being in full swing by the time they arrive a while later. The driveway is full of cars, and even before Gray parks the Jag, Ianto can hear the thump of music pumping from the outdoor speakers he knows are set up around the pool out back. It’s nearing late afternoon by now, and it’s obvious that most of the partygoers have been drinking for several hours at least.

Tosh looks like someone gave her the keys to Disneyland, and even Rhiannon seems excited as they all tumble out of the car and start toward the house. All it takes is one bikini clad person holding what looks to Ianto like a large keg of some alcohol or other, to have Tosh laughing loudly and taking off across the lawn, dragging Rhiannon behind her. Gray laughs (all animosity towards Tosh having been lost on the drive over to the Harkness house, eliminated once it became clear that Tosh had no romantic intentions toward Ianto) and slings an arm around Ianto’s shoulder companionably to steer him toward the front door instead of letting him follow after them, not that Ianto was trying to.

Inside, the party is going strong as well, and Gray calls out greetings to nearly ten people before they even hit the kitchen. Ianto thinks it’s probably a good thing that the elder Harknesses are with River in London for the weekend finalising some wedding plans because as open with their home as Elizabeth and Franklin have been, he can’t imagine them approving of the chaos and debauchery he’s seeing all around him at the moment.

From the inquiries various people make about Jack as they walk into the house, it sounds like he has yet to make an appearance. Ianto wonders if Jack is friends with all of these people too, or if they only know him as Gray’s little brother. The disappointment at Jack’s absence expressed by one particularly good-looking twenty-something guy seems to indicate at least _some_ of the partiers are here for the younger Harkness and also causes a hot stab of something ugly in Ianto’s gut. He ignores it as best he can, glad that the ciders he’s already had have worn off a little on the drive over so he doesn’t do something silly like growl at the guy. Ianto Jones does not _growl_.

“Why don’t you head over and check on our boy, while I get a much needed drink, okay?” Gray suggests, looking entirely too amused at Ianto’s expense. Ianto glares but that only makes Gray smile more so he gives up and shoves at the older boy instead. Gray just gives him a one-armed hug before pushing him down the corridor with a ‘ _Go get ‘em, Tiger_ ’ called after. Ianto knows it’s a saying but his stomach does something unpleasant and someone else other than Jack calling him that. Ianto flips him the finger and grins at the laugh it gets him before fighting through the last of the crowd in the kitchen to get to the corridor.

Down here is quieter, as it seems most of the revelers are respecting it as some kind of off-limits area, and so Ianto can easily hear the lower tones of a different song than the one pounding outside drifting down the hallway as he approaches Jack’s room. He doesn’t recognise the song specifically but it is low and sad sounding, much like the playlists Ianto created for himself back in May when Lisa brought up the idea of taking a break. Ianto tries very hard not to assign the moody music any importance though, it’s probably just Jack’s Spotify on shuffle or something and not a song picked out because of _Ianto_ and this whole stupid not-quite-a-fight they’ve stumbled into. In any case, it still has him knocking instead of just walking in.

“Go away, Gray!” Jack’s voice calls out, loud but more defeated than angry. Ianto feels for the first time, actually guilty about turning his phone off earlier. He hadn’t thought… well, he hadn’t thought, and that was about it.

“It’s not Gray,” he calls back. “It’s me.”

Ianto barely had time to wonder if Jack will even know who ‘me’ is before the sound of shuffling in the room stops and the door swings open revealing Jack himself. He’s wearing only a pair of dark blue swimming trunks and a thin white t-shirt, stretched tight across his shoulders and loose enough around that collar that Ianto can follow the trail of freckles down Jack’s neck until it disappears into the shirt below his clavicle. His hair is wild, sticking every which way, and his eyes look a little red. He looks like a gorgeous mess and heartbreakingly sad. He’s holding a bottle of amber liquid in one hand and swaying slightly on his feet, and Ianto realises with startling clarity that Jack is drunk.

“Ianto?” Jack says, voice full of disbelief and enough repressed hope to have Ianto wanting to apologise for a week if Jack will just stop looking so damn _sad_.

“Yeah, um, hi,” Ianto says lamely, feeling unsure for the first time since Gray convinced him to come. What if Jack is mad that he’s here? Hell, there’s probably still some lingering awkward tension from last night and he’s just made it worse by arriving unannounced, maybe it would have been better if he called…

He doesn’t have the chance to think or worry for long, though, because Jack is tugging him through the doorway by his shirt and pulling him into a hard hug.

Up close, Jack smells like whiskey and warmth, and Ianto surrenders to it instantly, his heart giving a hard throb at the contact. He knows that Jack is drunk, knows he himself is still coasting on a bit of a buzz, knows that there is so much they need to talk about and define and figure out, but right now, this is enough of an answer to all his questions. Jack’s got a hand fisted in his hair, holding Ianto in close like he’s afraid if he lets go Ianto might disappear, and Ianto doesn’t fight it, just brings his own hands up to Jack’s shoulders, twining around his neck. He has to close his eyes to fight the burn of tears, because he’d thought he might have lost this too, just when he was starting to want it. It’s only when they are pressed chest-to-chest that Jack relaxes a little, tilting his head down against Ianto’s shoulder and just breathing him in.

“You’re here,” he whispers, so quiet Ianto almost doesn’t hear it.

“I’m here,” Ianto confirms, then hesitates and adds, “Is that okay?”

“Yes, god, yes,” Jack says instantly. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have told you to stay away; I just-”

Ianto cuts him off quickly with a little murmured shushing sound. “It’s okay, I think Gray explained it actually, but Jack… I’m not going to run away over something as silly as this. Given our history, I thought that’d be pretty clear. If I haven’t walked away yet, this isn’t going to be what does it.”

Jack presses his face deeper into the curve of Ianto’s shoulder and mumbles his reply into Ianto’s skin so that he feels the apology and understanding in the shaping of Jack’s lips more than hears it. They stand like that for a minute, just holding each other close and breathing in time, until eventually, Jack disentangles himself sheepishly, knowing Ianto in the hip with the bottle of liquor in the process.

“So, is this a one man pity party, or…?” Ianto teases, laughing outright when Jack actually blushes a little at the words. Jack pulls back a little then too, as if he’s just realised how bold he’s been in catching Ianto into an embrace.

Ianto can see some of the wariness and worry filtering back over Jack’s features, as his brain catches up with his body, so before he can get really embarrassed or awkward, before he can overthink something that doesn’t need to be overthought, Ianto grabs the bottle from him and takes a swig, for himself as much as to break the tension.

Ianto’s feeling better than this morning, but there is a part of him that is still worrying, too, about silly things. Things like that even though he’s convinced Jack he’s not going to freak out at the party, he needs to prove that he’s as capable of having a good time as anyone else. He can’t help but think he wants to show Jack that he can do one better than just accepting, that he can be a part of this world too.

He knows too, somewhere in the back of his mind, that he’s maybe being ridiculous, that he doesn’t need to prove anything to anyone, but he’s been riding an adrenaline rush of conflicting emotions all day and right now being ridiculous sounds okay. Later, when they are both sober, he can take the healthy path of talking to Jack about what they are to each other, about what they want from each other. Right now, he just wants to be. He takes another drink.

Jack’s eyes widen as Ianto swallows a second mouthful, lips twisting up into a fond smirk when Ianto can’t keep the wince off his face at the burn of it. “Shut up,” Ianto rasps preemptively, before Jack can comment.

“I wasn’t going to say anything,” Jack insists, stealing the bottle back and taking a swig of his own - without wincing even a little, Ianto notices with envy. When he leans back in close to hand the bottle off to Ianto again, Ianto can’t help but wonder if whiskey might be more tolerable when tasted off of Jack’s tongue.

“You’re drunk,” he accuses a moment later when Jack seemingly changes his mind, grabbing the bottle back and taking a particularly sloppy swig, spilling little amber droplets over his lips and down his chin.

“And you’re not,” Jack reasons back, wiping at his mouth with his arm and smiling again. “But, you’re here.”

“I’m here,” Ianto agrees and finds himself lost in another one of those ‘them’ moments, where they can’t seem to stop smiling and staring.

“So,” Jack says after a long minute, breaking the staring game with another grin. “Do you want to come in and join my pity party?”

It’s appealing, the thought of holing up in Jack’s room and spluttering his way through a few more mouthfuls of whiskey, listening to music and maybe - if he can work up the courage to make a move - kissing a little, but before he can agree, he catches Jack’s eyes straying toward the outside corridor after a particularly loud burst of laughter drifts to them. Making up his mind, he shakes his head slightly and lets his hand fall to intertwine his fingers with Jack’s.

“Nah, I’ve got a better idea,” he says. “How about we go join the actual party, and you can make me a drink that doesn’t taste like burning.”

Jack laughs, eyes still glassy but happy again and Ianto grins. He’s still feeling a little nervous about the press of bodies, still feeling some irrational jealousy at the idea of all the attractive people milling around that Jack obviously knows (and he doesn’t even want to think yet about how intimately Jack might know some of them), but Jack is smiling at _him_ and that’s pretty much all he wanted out of today in the first place.

“Sure thing, tiger,” Jack says, pulling the bedroom door closed behind them and walking with Ianto toward the kitchen. “I think I can handle that.”

\-----

The trip down to the kitchen takes longer than it should.

The moment they hit the corridor, some of the easy happiness in Jack’s smile fades, and he looks almost apprehensive as he glances at the sea of people he can see and then back at Ianto. The expression could mean a million things, Ianto knows, but as he’s feeling rather apprehensive himself, it sets him a little on edge, makes him wonder if Jack really thinks he’s so much of a child that taking him into the party would be such a terrible idea.

Jack doesn’t say anything, just bites his lip, takes a deep breath like he’s steeling himself, and sneaks another little hopeful nervous glance in Ianto’s direction before taking his hand more firmly. They are barely halfway to the kitchen when a girl lounging against the wall ahead glances around and spots them, a huge grin spreading across her face.

“Jack, finally putting in an appearance,” she teases. “I was starting to think you were going to hide in there all night, no doubt with all the good stuff.”

She wiggles her eyebrows at that, and Jack forces a laugh though he’s moving a little quicker now, looking vaguely uncomfortable and like he has no intention of stopping to talk. In fact, he’s giving Ianto that awkward look again and tugging him along as if he is very much hoping to get by the girl without further conversation. Ianto is a little confused, both at the behaviour and as to what she meant in the first place, but when he sees her glancing at Jack’s hands and then perplexedly at his pocketless shorts as they brush past, as if she’s expecting him to be carrying something more than himself, he starts to have an inkling.

He may be relatively innocent to things, but he’s seen Johnny fidget with a pocket full of weed as a fellow student eyes him to see if he’s selling, and he’s seen the way little orange pill bottles look folded into the palms of some of the girls at school as they discreetly pass things back and forth in class with talk about ‘save it for the party Saturday’ to know when someone is looking to score something stronger than beer or liquor. Ianto turns an inquisitive look Jack’s way - because he had never really given much thought to it before, Jack’s partying, but this was an element he’d not considered until now. Honestly, he’d mostly been so caught up in thoughts about the sexual escapades of such things that he’d never stopped to wonder if there was more to it that Jack hadn’t wanted to share, hadn’t wanted him to know.

When she asks, less happily this time, “Nada? Seriously? Wow, I don’t think I’ve ever been to a party with the Harkness boys where neither one of them was holding something to _enhance_ the experience,” Jack shoots her a glare, mumbles a ‘ _sorry_ ’ that sounds more like ‘ _fuck off_ ’ than apology, and pulls Ianto into the crowd so that she’s lost from sight before she can say anything else, damning or not.

To his surprise, Ianto finds he’s not actually too upset or worried, more curious than anything. He’s heard the ‘drugs bad’ speech enough growing up, and it isn’t like he has a burning desire to run out and try a host of pharmaceuticals or anything, but as he looks at Jack’s set, tense face (Jack is squeezing his hand tighter too, like he’s sure Ianto is going to try to bolt now), he can’t help but wonder what Jack might look like under the influence of certain substances; relaxed and languid, keyed up and bubbly, probably still nearly unbearably beautiful no matter what. It’s not something Ianto would want to see all the time; he is too much a worrier and caretaker by nature to be fully comfortable with any kind of heavy and too frequent drug use he’s pretty sure, but he also finds the idea of seeing it - maybe even sharing it - with Jack every once in a while isn’t abhorrent either.

Jack is clearly not aware of his thoughts, nor of the fact that Ianto isn’t trying to pull away or glare at him or enact any of the myriad other signs of disapproval, because he is still pulled tense and worries. When they get jammed up near the library (and why they are winding their way through the downstairs instead of going around the outside of the house where it will be quieter, Ianto’s not sure, except that maybe Jack had been so intent on getting him away from the girl, he hadn’t thought about that), Ianto steps in closer, intent to soothe away the worry lines on Jack’s face.

“You know, I think Johnny gave me a pot brownie once,” he whisper-laughs in Jack’s ear, speaking close to be heard over the music and chatter. “It was during a movie marathon though, and I fell asleep on Tosh’s shoulder ten minutes later so I can’t be sure.”

Jack looks at him incredulously, though some of the tension in him bleeds away almost instantly when he sees Ianto is smiling still. “You know that’s a really lame story, right?” he teases back tentatively, smile brightening when Ianto laughs and squeezes his arm.

“Well, we can’t all be Harkness boys,” Ianto says with a grin. Those few mouthfuls of whiskey from Jack’s room are starting to warm through him, and he finds it is easy to do this - to tease and flirt and just be here, with Jack.

“Gray was way worse than me,” Jack responds, then turns earnest eyes Ianto’s way and adds, “I don’t… it’s nothing major and not something I do all the time; in fact, I haven’t really done anything like that in months, and I wasn’t like dealing or anything and-”

Ianto cuts off what is quickly becoming a babble by pressing his fingers to Jack’s mouth to get him to stop. Jack does stop, but Ianto is realising the danger of his technique because he is suddenly _very_ aware of the way Jack’s lips feel against the pads of his fingers. They are both staring at each other again, a little wide-eyed, and when Jack’s mouth purses just a little, like he’s maybe barely kissing at Ianto’s skin, Ianto has to swallow heavy and pull away before his whiskey-lowered inhibitions convince him now is the perfect time to confess all his growing feelings and affection. Not that he thinks the confession itself would necessarily lead to disaster; the past two days have made him a little more sure he might not be alone in all this muddled newness, but this isn’t exactly the place he’s pictured it all going down.

The danger of such things passes in an instant though, as Jack catches sight of something or someone over Ianto’s shoulder and gets a different, more panicky, wide-eyed expression.

“You know what, let’s cut through the dining room, it’ll be quicker,” he says, tugging at Ianto’s hand without waiting for a response and ignoring the fact that cutting through the dining room is actually a rather roundabout path. Ianto glances back to see what it is Jack seems so keen to run from and sees a sandy-haired guy pushing through the crowd in their direction.

For a few seconds, Ianto thinks they might have actually lost their pursuer, despite the fact that Jack is tipsy enough to mostly be stumbling his way through the crowd, but when they hit the dining room, they encounter another jam of guests. The large table in the room has been pushed against the wall and is piled with food, fizzy drinks and more booze, and the room is crowded to near bursting with revelers trying to get at the spread. Ianto is watching someone fumble a handful of doritos, and thinking that it’s a good thing Gray has a cleaning crew coming in the morning (Ianto knows this after listening to Gray wax on about his extensive party planning protocols on the drive over) when the guy catches up.

“You know, Harkness, if I didn’t know for a fact it wasn’t your style, I’d think you were playing hard to get,” the guy drawls. Ianto’s pretty sure he’s trying for low and sexy with the rasp in his voice, but - and this isn’t just the spike of possessiveness, honest - in Ianto’s opinion he falls short of the mark, sounding stupid and sleazy instead. 

Jack turns a fake half-smile to the new guy and, with a sigh, says, “Brad, fancy seeing you here. I thought for sure Gray had stopped adding you to the guest list months ago.”

Brad gives Ianto an inquisitive, and not entirely friendly, once-over before disregarding him and turning back to Jack with a practiced leer. “Oh, come on, baby; you know you’re glad to see me.”

“Well, I’ve seen you, so, now, if you’ll excuse us.”

Jack tries to backtrack out of the room, but between Brad still trying to get his attention and his own inebriation, he doesn’t get too far. A quick getaway is not in the cards.

“Rumour has it, you’ve finally settled down,” Brad continues on once they’ve been forced to stop again, as if Jack hasn’t just tried to get rid of him and walk away, “Is this little twink the boyfriend, then?”

Ianto bristles under the term, turning his iciest glare at the boy whom he is beginning to dislike more and more with each passing minute. It’s already pretty clear, from Brad’s body language and Jack’s behaviour, that Brad is someone that Jack slept with once upon a time, and Jack is also clearly hoping that Ianto won’t have a chance to realise that.

“Shut your fucking mouth before I shut it for you,” Jack growls before Ianto has a chance to say anything.

“Funny, I’m pretty sure last time, you were more than happy for me to leave it open,” Brad jokes, either oblivious to the building anger emanating in waves from Jack’s body or stupid enough to provoke it.

Jack looks like he’s torn between wanting to shut Brad up and wanting to just walk away. He chances a look Ianto’s way as if afraid he’s going to find there the judgement he’d feared or maybe hurt that he doesn’t know what to do with. Ianto, for his part, knows that he should have been expecting some kind of encounter like this once, especially considering that it’s been a nagging thought in the back of his mind ever since he got to the party. However, expected or not, that feeling of irrational jealousy he’s got every time they’ve run into a past hook-up of Jack’s burns hot and intense nevertheless. He’s a good actor though and manages to school his face into bored disinterest, as if Brad is hardly worth the time to listen to, let alone react to, and Jack seems to calm a little.

The thing is he _knows_ Jack has slept with a relatively large amount of people, has always known that, and though it isn’t his happiest thought - given his newly minted feelings - he also meant it when he said he didn’t want to judge Jack for his past. So it isn’t that he’s thinking less of Jack (though really, the boy seems to have had absolutely terrible taste in men at times, personality-wise at least), but it _is_ intimidating, being faced with all these reminders that Jack can have and has had nearly anyone he wants. Brad may be many annoying things, but objectively, Ianto has to admit he’s good looking and was probably willing to do just about anything Jack wanted. And Ianto, while definitely willing to get physical faster than he was the first time around, is still not a one-night stand kind of guy. It makes him wonder, for not the first time, what on Earth Jack would ever see in him, or more importantly what Jack would want to have with him, because ‘relationship’ does not seem to be a word that Jack is all that familiar with.

Of course, Brad reads the lack of response as encouragement (Ianto is starting to think he must be more drunk than he appears, to be so oblivious) and adds, “Does the boyfriend blow you as well as I always did, Jack? Does he have you writhing? Because he hardly looks like he knows what to do with his own dick, let alone yours.”

Ianto is sure this is the snapping point, and braces himself to either stop a fight or join in on one, when he sees a familiar face moving in from the crowd. The shorter guy has a determined look on his angular features, and Ianto’s not sure what to think. It only takes the guy a second to read the tension in their little group, and he throws a seemingly casual yet entirely threatening arm around Brad’s neck as he joins them.

“This guy giving you problems, Eye Candy?” he asks, voice easy like they’re discussing something as inane as the weather, but with concealed steel underneath. “‘Cause I’m pretty sure your boy and I would be more than happy to take him outside and have a _discussion_ about good manners.”

Jack looks like he’s totally on board with helping John give Brad that ‘discussion’ and is drunk enough to go along with the fight no matter how much potential there may be for disaster, so Ianto figures he’s got to be the one to stop this.

“Nah, he was just leaving, actually, weren’t you?” Ianto says, leveling Brad with another dismissive flare. “Seems he stumbled in here accidentally on his way back to the rock he crawled out from under.”

Brad looks like he’s got a retort to that, his face twisted up into something ugly, but John’s arm tightens subtly around his throat and the comeback dies.

“Well then,” John says jovially, flexing his bicep a bit and smiling when Brad splutters. “I’ll just make sure he finds his way out.”

He winks at Ianto and extends a fist to Jack to bump before hauling Brad back out into the crowd. Ianto stares off after the pair with a bemused smile - he didn't expect that to be the first time he's seen John since school. Ianto wonders what he's been up to during the summer so far - him and Jack were usually attached at the hip but it's not like he ever sees them outside of a school setting. _I wonder what John thinks of this whole thing. I wonder if he knows if they're just faking it or if Jack didn't want to risk John saying anything_. When they’re out of sight, Ianto turns back to Jack to find him looking disgruntled and fidgety all at once, which is rather endearing but also not really what Ianto wants - not when Jack smiling is so much better.

“Come on; you still have to get me a drink,” he urges, drawing Jack’s attention back to him with a tug to his hands as he starts to pull them both through the dining room. Jack looks like he wants to say something, probably offering explanations that Ianto doesn’t need, but in the end he doesn’t, just squeezes Ianto’s hand once - in thanks or reassurance Ianto doesn’t know - and follows.

It would be easy to disregard it all too, let the insecurity and jealousy that floats through him whenever he wonders about what he might mean to Jack roll away as they move through the crowd. After all, given his awful personality and Jack’s reaction, Ianto’s pretty sure Brad would never be any real competition. But Brad isn’t the only one. In fact, by the time they finally reach the kitchen doorway, Jack has been waved over by no less than three more people (all stunningly good looking, all obviously intimately familiar). The encounters are brief and mostly friendly in fact, just people giving shouted greetings, knowing smiles, and a brief appreciative glance or two at Jack’s body. None of them try anything, or say anything, and two of them even give Ianto a genuinely friendly ‘hey.’ Somehow, that’s only made it worse though.

He knows he’s better than guys like Brad, or Mark from the bar the other night (hell even Adam), but people like this - friendly, easy-going, down to fuck - he’s not so sure how to compete. They are so clearly looking to have a good time, and they’re comfortable here too - at the party, with themselves and their wants - whereas Ianto comes with history and strings and complications. He knows too that easy is what Jack has gone for in the past - sure he’s seemed up for a bit of the chase, given his interest in Lisa and Gwen, but the goal has been the same. Sex without complications, without feelings and ties and labels. And Ianto is starting to wonder if once the chase is done between them, Jack is going to want to stick around through all those other hard bits.

But Ianto isn’t going to give into pessimism and worry easily, not tonight if he can help it. What he _is_ going to do is make sure that Jack sees he can have a good time too and that just because Ianto wants to come with feelings and ties and labels, it doesn’t mean he can’t fit here - doesn’t mean he can’t be just as much at home in this happy chaos as Jack, as all those other people. Tonight, he is going to show Jack that he can be a part of this world, because Ianto Jones is good enough to fit in anywhere.

They do finally reach the bar just outside the back of the house, and once there - where it is marginally less crowded for the moment at least - Jack turns to face him.

“Ianto, those people…”

Ianto cuts him off quickly with playful condescension, “The fact that you think I haven’t been aware of your promiscuous tendencies is endearing. I believe you made your past pretty clear in the first five minutes of that meeting in the coffee shop with Lisa at the beginning of the year, what with revealing your penchant for the twenty-minute relationship.”

Jack looks like he’s trying to figure out if Ianto is really teasing or is actually upset, so Ianto rolls his eyes and bumps their shoulders companionably before giving Jack a real smile.

“Not running, remember? Besides, I think I’m more shocked that there are people here you _haven’t_ slept with,” he teases, tongue peeking out from between his teeth and wide grin lighting up his face.

“Well, there are lesbians here,” Jack jokes back after a minute, looking relaxed and happy again for the first time since they left the bedroom. “And I’ve not been in the habit of trying to sleep with them.”

Ianto laughs, faking a shudder at the thought of either of them being misogynistic enough to try and get a lesbian to sleep with them. With Jack smiling at him again, the resolve to have a good time tonight, and the slightly floaty quality to the world from the alcohol in his system, Ianto is feeling _happy_ , and he lets the feeling carry him.

He hops up onto a stool by the counter, crossing his legs and propping his chin in his hands, and shoots a flirty look Jack’s way. “Alright, Casanova, how about we see if you’re as good with drinks as you are with people?”

Jack smirks back and picks up a vodka bottle in one hand and a bottle of rum in the other, twirling them both expertly (Ianto can’t help but be impressed though he tries not to show it). “Name your poison, tiger.”

Ianto considers what he’d like to drink for a moment before shrugging. “Anything but whiskey.”

\-----

Ianto tries several different concoctions that Jack comes up with over the next hour or so, mixing random alcohols and juices. It is easier then, when it is just the two of them and an endlessly changing background of people who don’t pay them any mind, to forget all about people and hook-ups and feelings. They are just Ianto and Jack, hurling insults and flirting in equal measure, friends with the possibility of being more. Ianto feels as high from the promise of that possibility as he does from the liquor he’s been drinking as the night wears on.

Eventually, when Ianto is mostly protesting the drinks Jack makes, just to be a pain instead of out of any actual dislike - most of what he’s made is actually not awful, and anyway by now Ianto is drunk enough to not mind the taste much - a rather intoxicated Gray stumbles in carrying several plastic cups filled with a noxious-looking red liquid which he declares to be jungle juice. Ianto tries it hesitantly but finds it is, surprisingly, not so bad. After a brief tussle with Jack - which largely seems to stem from Jack pouting that he was going to get Ianto the punch _eventually_ and Gray just beat him to it - Gray gives them a crooked grin and crooked-er salute before chasing a girl wearing the tiniest swimming costume Ianto has ever seen towards the pool.

Ianto downs one of the drinks quickly, feeling loose and relaxed and like maybe with just a bit more liquid courage he might work up the nerve to push in the last few inches between him and Jack, leaning close already on bar stools pressed side by side. Before he can think about it too much, a more immediate issue pulls his attention, namely the blonde boy throwing arms around Jack enthusiastically.

“Jack!” blondie shouts too loud for someone standing so close, though Jack just grins and hugs back, even standing up to be able to embrace this (stupidly sexy) stranger more fully.

“Hey, Tyler, long time no see,” he returns with a grin.

Ianto stiffens up and downs the rest of his drink in one. Jack had certainly not reacted like this to any of the other people they’d run into, and Ianto is all at once feeling very territorial. He watches with cool eyes as ‘Tyler’ chatters happily at Jack, arms still around Jack’s waist in familiarity. Ianto’s bi-fi isn’t pinging too strongly, but then again, it’s always been rather faulty so that’s no guarantee of anything. What is clear is that Tyler and Jack know each other well, what isn’t as clear is what ‘well’ means.

He takes another large swallow of the cup he’s stolen from in front of Jack’s abandoned sea, to try and erase the unbidden image that has invaded his brain of Tyler and Jack in less clothing - not hard on Tyler’s part considering he’s only wearing a low-slung pair of tiny swimming trunks - and intertwined just as closely. It isn’t a pleasant image, and he feels jealousy heating in his gut, his rational mind clouding over further with each new sip of drink he takes. After a few more seconds, Jack seems to remember he’s there (and okay, to be fair it really has only been a minute tops, but that doesn’t stop Ianto from pouting a bit at the neglect).

“Oh hey, Tyler, this is Ianto,” Jack says, letting go of his hold on Tyler’s arms to step back and pull Ianto in close again. “Ianto, Tyler is the guy that Gray buys all his scrap metal from for his sculptures. They met at some house party like three years ago and we haven’t been able to get rid of the bastard since.”

The boys both laugh and Ianto relaxes a little knowing that Tyler is maybe here for Gray more than Jack, even if he’s clearly friends with them both. Tyler turns a perfect toothpaste-ad smile on him and Ianto maybe hates him a little after all.

“Don’t let this guy fool you, I also know him from Group. But hi! So I finally get to meet the famous Ianto!” Tyler says cheerily, offering a hand to shake.

And oh, that’s nicer, the fact that Jack has been talking about him enough that Tyler knows about him. _Group? What’s that?_ Well, that is until he turns to smile shyly at Jack just to find Jack looking confused.

“The famous Ianto?” Jack laughs before Ianto can say anything.

“Yeah, Gray wouldn’t shut up about him last time he came out for supplies. Apparently,” he adds, turning back to Ianto. “You are not only gorgeous but also a saint, as far as Gray is concerned, for being able to put up with this guy.” He jerks a thumb in Jack’s direction, and Ianto forces a smile, though he’s still feeling grumpy that apparently _Gray_ talks about him more than Jack does.

Jack doesn’t look so thrilled about it either, but when Tyler grins at him, Jack’s face morphs back into a smile so fast Ianto is sure he must have imagined it.

“So, what do you say, Ianto?” Tyler asks, slinging an arm around Jack’s shoulders in a move that makes Ianto have to fight to keep his own smile from slipping. “Can I borrow this guy for a few? We kinda have a tradition at these house parties of seeing who can get the longest line going for body shots.”

Ianto is maybe feeling all at once a little dizzy as the newest drinks hit his system, and though he’s pretty sure he knew what body shots were once upon a time, right now, he can’t quite remember. But shots sound pretty harmless, right? It’s just more drinking, and Jack’s already drunk, so what’s the harm in a little more?

“Tyler, I don’t want to ditch Ianto,” Jack is cutting in. “Maybe it’s time we drop that tradition anway.”

“Aw, come on, Jackie Boy,” Tyler pushes, grinning when Jack huffs at the nickname. “Are you seriously using Ianto as an excuse for the fact that you’re scared I’ll get a longer line than you this time?”

“Haven’t managed it yet,” Jack teases back before schooling his face into a more serious expression. “But really, I don’t think I’m in tonight.”

This, Ianto realises all at once, is probably another one of those things that Jack is afraid he’ll be judged for. And while he isn’t feeling especially keen on letting Tyler steal Jack away from him, he also genuinely wants to prove to Jack that he’s okay with this - that he isn’t judging or condemning. And really, it would probably be quick, right? Jack could just go do some whatever shots with his friend, Ianto could find some more of the delicious punch because sadly he’s discovered his cup is empty, and then they can meet up again. Right?

“You should go,” Ianto says, and he thinks he might be speaking a little loudly but really can’t tell. It’s actually kind of funny, though he doesn’t know why. He’s giggling a little nonetheless though.

“Tiger,” Jack says lowly. “I don’t have to; it’s fine.”

“But it’s tradition!” Ianto insists, earning a ‘ _Hear Hear!_ ’ from Tyler.

Jack studies him for a moment, as if trying to figure out if Ianto is serious, but he’s swaying a little too and Ianto remembers Jack is just as inebriated as he feels and so probably can’t really read Ianto too well. Any lingering hesitance to let Jack go is being swept away with another wave of unexpected giggle anyway, so Ianto’s not sure there would be anything to see in his face in any case.

“Are you sure?” Jack asks, ignoring Tyler’s tugging at his arm to look at Ianto as steadily as he can manage.

“Yeah, it’s fine. I’m just gonna find another drink and maybe look for Tosh and Rhiannon, then I’ll come find you, okay?”

Jack gives him another look before sighing. “Okay. We’ll be by the pool; don’t take long, alright?”

“This isn’t a bar, Cap,” Ianto says solemnly. “You don’t have to worry; I’m not going to get pulled into a bathroom by some person who doesn’t understand ‘no.’”

“You’d be surprised,” Jack mutters but relents after a moment. After all, at least the guest list here has been screened (#37 on Gray’s party planning protocol list) and after seeing how effectively John dealt with any hangers on that slipped in anyway with the Brad incident, Ianto’s feeling about as safe as one can at a crazy house party. He can also tell that a part of Jack is kind of looking forward to whatever this competition with Tyler is, which makes sense considering Jack seems like the kind of guy who really likes to win. Ianto can relate.

“Fine, just be careful and come find me soon, okay?” Jack relents after a moment of more consideration.

Ianto nods, and then - on impulse - tips forward to kiss Jack just at the corner of his mouth (to make sure Tyler doesn’t get any ideas). “I’ll be fine; go have fun.”

Tyler just smiles at them indulgently and winks at Ianto before pulling a stunned-looking Jack towards the pool area. “Don’t worry, Ianto; I’ll beat him quick and send him back to you to lick his wounds!”

“In your dreams, Tyler. You know you don’t stand a chance.” Jack laughs, shaking off his surprise at Ianto’s burst of affection and shoving at Tyler’s arm, and then they are off into the crowd and out of sight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay, i had to end up splitting this in the end as it ended up over 20,000 words lol. plus my incredible beta princessoftheworlds has exams to prep for so splitting this chapter will also mean that i won't bother her with chapters haha. 
> 
> also this chapter was one massive emotional rollercoaster, and where i cut it to was bad enough. not going to lie, most of the next chapter is purely sexual tension lol.
> 
> (if anyone ever wants an explanation for who the random whoniverse cameos are, just lemme know :) )
> 
> i'm feeling generous, so i'll give you a hint of what's in store for the next chapter ;)
> 
> Next time on Torchwood:
> 
> _‘Body shots’ makes a lot more sense all of a sudden, and Ianto is kind of wishing he hadn’t shoved Jack off to have this kind of fun now that he’s seen what it entails. If telling Jack to go have fun was meant to show him how okay with all of this Ianto was, well then indulging in some of that fun himself ought to really prove it, right? Plus, he’s still feeling a little bit of that sexy confidence still, and who better to use that on then the boy he’d like to be sexy with?_
> 
> _Mostly, logical or not, Ianto is committed to stepping on - overcommitted really, if his sudden desire to make sure Jack can’t think of anything but him for the rest of the night is anything to go by, and he swallows down the rest of the punch in one gulp before tossing his cup aside and rounding the pool in long strides._
> 
> _He pushes his way to the front of the line, shoving an obnoxious hot guy out of the way in the process and ignoring the disgruntled protest that gets him. Jack’s head tilts in his direction at the commotion, and he looks almost surprised to see Ianto looming over him for a moment before his expression morphs into one of challenge and amusement._
> 
> _“Body shots, Ianto? Are you sure you’re up for it?” he teases, and normally, Ianto’s hackles would have gone up a bit at the tone, but right now, he’s feeling good, better than good really, sexy . And this, this is a game he suddenly knows he can win._
> 
> _He smirks at Jack as he leans down, licking a broad stripe up Jack’s neck to his ear. Jack tastes like sweat and sunscreen, and boy, and Ianto kind of just wants to run his tongue back up that path again as a spike of arousal shivers through him, but he manages to refrain, instead whispering hotly into the shell of Jack’s ear, “I think the question is how up for it you’re going to be when I’m done.” He can see the bob of Jack’s Adam's apple as he swallows heavily at Ianto’s words, and oh yeah, Ianto is going to win this one._


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ianto re-remembers what body shots are, and the rest of the party and evening unfolds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is what has given this story its mature rating, fair warning.

Ianto takes another minute before moving, frozen in place by the fact that he’s just remembered he has no idea where to even start looking for either punch or a familiar face. In the end, he decides to do a circuit of the house’s lower level.

He finds Rhiannon with John in the middle of a heated game of strip poker in the living room (John is already down to his boxers, though Rhiannon seems to be doing surprisingly well - only one naked foot sans sock wiggling in front of her). They both grin happily at him, and John insists that his sister must be cheating or something, causing Rhiannon to lightly slap his shoulder.

They eventually point him in the direction of the back patio, the other side to where he and Jack were earlier, and more punch, only after he insists for the tenth time that he really isn’t feeling up for a round of poker. One of the girls on John’s left is looking at him a bit too intensely, and he’s happy enough with his own Jack drama without throwing anything else in. He’s also not all that keen of having random people ogle his junk.

It’s flattering though, her obvious interest, and makes his booze-earned confidence tick up a few notches. In fact, now that he’s looking for it, he finds that he’s getting quite a few appreciative looks as he winds his way through various rooms on his way to the back garden. Ianto’s always had a relatively healthy sense of self, and he knows he isn’t bad-looking, but he still isn’t quite used to so much positive attention - especially from other attractive people.

Being with Lisa had helped him feel like he could be sexy, and the growth spurt over the last year has given him more confidence in his body and its appeal, as the last of the baby fat melted away leaving lean muscle behind, but part of his worry with Jack has always been that he won’t measure up. After all, until recently Lisa’s really been the only person to express any sexual interest in him, the only one to utter compliments and flattery. It’s one thing to have your girlfriend of over a year tell you that you’re ‘model gorgeous,’ and while that is something Ianto certainly appreciated hearing, it doesn’t give him quite the same ego boost as when a random guy (who is, himself, pretty much ‘model gorgeous’) stops him in the music room and asks if he wants to dance. Ianto turns him down, but by the time he hits the outer door, he can’t help the little strut in his step, because he’s feeling pretty damn good. Maybe he’ll try for those kisses after all, once he finds Jack again.

He refills his empty cup - somehow he’s held onto it this whole time - once he hits the patio, and briefly ends up considering just sinking into one of the pushed aside deck chairs and observing for a while. Ianto’s eye catches one deck chair where he sees Tosh sitting with a guy he doesn’t know. The stranger has a round face that kind of reminds Ianto of a frog, if he were to be a bit cruel. As he’s watching, Tosh’s face lights up as she laughs loudly at whatever the stranger says; the stranger’s own features softening into a more pleasant expression. Knowing Tosh is enjoying herself and can look after herself, he turns to look at the rest of the crowd. Out here, there is an even bigger mix of guests, and the whole scene is just ripe for people-watching, which is one of his favourite things to do. In the end, though, the shouts of laughter and loud splashes and catcalls from the pool draw his attention, reminding him that Jack is over there somewhere and he’d much rather watch Jack for the rest of the night.

As he wanders over, he can see Jack lying back on a chaise on the other side of the pool. He’s shirtless now, and a line of mostly girls and a few boys is forming around him while a second, if a bit shorter, line forms next to Tyler who is on another chaise a few feet away. The sun is just starting to drift down toward the horizon, and under the blazing of a late summer sunlight, Jack’s skin practically glows.

Someone sets up a giant bottle of tequila, a bowl of lime slices, and a salt shaker between them, and Ianto watches on fascination as the first girl, giggling madly, licks a stripe across Jack’s abs before sprinkling salt there. Still tittering, she places a lime slice in his mouth, before accepting a shot glass now full of clear liquid from someone and leaning over to lick the salt back up, toss the shot back, and bend down to pull the lime from his mouth. Another girl is repeating near-identical actions on Tyler.

‘Body shots’ makes a lot more sense all of a sudden, and Ianto is kind of wishing he hadn’t shoved Jack off to have this kind of fun now that he’s seen what it entails. If telling Jack to go have fun was meant to show him how okay with all of this Ianto was, well then indulging in some of that fun himself ought to really prove it, right? Plus, he’s still feeling a little bit of that sexy confidence still, and who better to use that on then the boy he’d like to be sexy with?

Mostly, logical or not, Ianto is committed to stepping on - overcommitted really, if his sudden desire to make sure Jack can’t think of anything but  _ him _ for the rest of the night is anything to go by, and he swallows down the rest of the punch in one gulp before tossing his cup aside and rounding the pool in long strides.

He pushes his way to the front of the line, shoving an obnoxious hot guy out of the way in the process and ignoring the disgruntled protest that gets him. Jack’s head tilts in his direction at the commotion, and he looks almost surprised to see Ianto looming over him for a moment before his expression morphs into one of challenge and amusement.

“Body shots, Ianto? Are you sure you’re up for it?” he teases, and normally, Ianto’s hackles would have gone up a bit at the tone, but right now, he’s feeling good, better than good really,  _ sexy _ . And this, this is a game he suddenly knows he can win.

He smirks at Jack as he leans down, licking a broad stripe up Jack’s neck to his ear. Jack tastes like sweat and sunscreen, and boy, and Ianto kind of just wants to run his tongue back up that path again as a spike of arousal shivers through him, but he manages to refrain, instead whispering hotly into the shell of Jack’s ear, “I think the question is how  _ up _ for it you’re going to be when I’m done.” He can see the bob of Jack’s Adam's apple as he swallows heavily at Ianto’s words, and oh yeah, Ianto is going to win this one.

He accepts the shaker from someone, sprinkling white granules along the side of Jack’s neck, mouth already watering at the thought of the table salt mixing in with the salty sweat sheened over tanned skin from being out in the heat of the day. Another hand is putting a lime slice between Jack’s lips, and a third is passing Ianto a full-to-spilling shot glass.

Ianto pauses then, boldness surging through him, and hands the shot glass back over, taking the bottle instead. Jack makes a questioning noise in his throat, unable to speak properly around the lime in his mouth, but Ianto just amps up the wicked smile and tilts the bottle to splash tequila across Jack’s chest and stomach, pooling in his navel. He doesn’t really know what he’s doing, hopes this is in fact as sexy as he’d thought and not ridiculous given the fact that he has an entire sea of onlookers, but Jack’s eyes widen a bit, and someone in the line behind them hoots out their approval, and Ianto feels a little more confident.

Intent now on not just stealing Jack’s attention but putting on a damn good show too, he can feel his nerves surge high along with a rush of adrenaline. With one last smile,and a look as heated as his blood feels, he leans in to lick up the salt (bittersharp on his tongue, mellowed by the flavour of Jack underneath) before turning to the task of lapping up the alcohol from Jack’s body.

He starts with long drags of his tongue over Jack’s pecs, gathering droplets of the alcohol into his mouth and making the muscles beneath bronze skin jump satisfyingly. It is a heady mix of power and desire, doing this to another person - doing this to  _ Jack _ , and he knows that he would never have been this brave without the drinking. Jack is all smooth skin and hard muscle under his mouth, warm and wet and intoxicating in ways that alcohol can never achieve. He wants more, wants to work his lips and tongue over every inch of the body below him, wants to pull every twitch and sound and jump of need from Jack into his mouth, savouring the flavour of being wanted by someone he wants just as much in return.  _ Fuck _ , he is so gone over this boy.

When he works his way down further, swirling the tip of his tongue over the wet ridges of Jack’s abs and dipping into his belly button to suck up the pool of liquid there, he can feel Jack breathing heavier under him. He can’t help but think of how he might make that breath catch if he went even lower, mind inevitably going to the thought of Jack hard and heavy on his tongue (god it’s been a long time since he’s done that, gone down on someone. He never would have expected to miss it this much).

He’s not drunk enough to have forgotten their audience though, and even though the taste of Jack’s skin has him half-hard in his shorts, he isn’t willing to put on  _ that _ much of a show. Instead, he settles on licking dangerously low, tongue teasing along the waistband of Jack’s swimming trunks and across the line of hair leading from belly button down. When he dips the tip of his tongue underneath the band  _ just _ barely (head swimming and body thrumming), he can’t help but look up through lowered lashes at Jack’s face.

Jack is staring down at him in dark-eyed appreciation, bottom lip drawn tightly between his teeth (the lime has long since tumbled to rest at the crook of his neck) and hands clenched white-knuckled around the sides of the chaise as he breathes fast and desperately. His chest is heaving, and he is looking at Ianto like Ianto is some kind of erotic dream he’d never hoped to have come true, and another rush of confidence sparks in Ianto’s blood. He nips playfully then at one hipbone after he’s licked the skin clean, and Jack honest-to-god moans, eyes fluttering shut briefly and back arching just a little, and Ianto can’t keep the grin from his face. He’s pretty sure that he’s just cemented his win - though it is more honestly probably a mutual victory at this point considering how heated and tight his own skin feels.

He unfolds his body up over Jack’s, taking the lime from where it has fallen and placing it back in Jack’s mouth before leaning in to take it back with his teeth and the barest brush of lips. He barely stops himself from bypassing the lime and just kissing, but resists. He doesn’t pull away though, hovering close and biting into the flesh of the fruit while it is still resting lightly against Jack’s lips. Sour juice explodes over his tongue, drips down into Jack’s mouth and Ianto does spit the rind away then, no longer able to hold back and pressing in to lick the juice directly from Jack’s parted lips. The action draws another breathy moan from the boy below him, and when he slots a thigh between Jack’s spread legs, he grins in satisfaction to feel the heat of Jack against him.

That, he will later think, is what gives him the final spike of self-confidence and arousal to pull away from Jack’s mouth, leaning over to whisper into his ear, “Next time, it’s your turn to lick me.”

Jack’s body jerks up into him at the words, strong hands grasping at his hips as Jack turns his head to catch Ianto’s mouth up in another kiss. Ianto pulls back just a little, still enjoying the game of the tease, so that Jack only manages to brush their lips together.

“Jesus, Ianto, where’d you get a mouth like that?” Jack groans. The truth is Ianto doesn’t know where (he has a feeling it came along with the third cup of punch and the mixture of possessive jealousy and lack of inhibitions that have been surging through him for the past half an hour), but it is here to stay apparently, at least for awhile, as his next words are, “You have  _ no _ idea what my mouth can do.”

Jack’s hands spasm against his hips, tightening to near painful, which only makes Ianto smirk wider even though the tight grip is making him want to thrust his own hips down against Jack. He pulls out of Jack’s grasp instead though and winks at him before turning to walk away.

Ianto catches the eye of the guy he cut in front of (not so handsome-looking now, not when Ianto can still feel Jack’s eyes burning into his back) and winks at him too when the guy glares. He can’t contain the bubble of laughter that spills over when the guy turns from him to move in for his turn at Jack, only to find Jack is already standing and brushing past him without a second look in his pursuit of Ianto. Some random girl takes Jack’s place and Ianto hears the guy huff out a ‘ _ seriously? _ ’ followed by a loud catcall from Tyler - still spread out happily as another girl licks a line low on his stomach - that sounds suspiciously like ‘ _ get it, Ianto! _ ’ before all his attention is on Jack, who is crowding up against his back and taking a turn at whispering in his ear.

“You know, tiger,” he murmurs, voice low and heavy with want, sending a pleasant shiver down Ianto’s back. “There are consequences to being as hot as you are.”

“Oh, yeah?” Ianto smirks over his shoulder, confident these so-called consequences are going to feel an awful lot like reward, and preening maybe just a little under the compliment. “Like what?”

“Well, for starters,” Jack drawls, “I think we need to cool you off.”

The grin turns downright wicked, and that’s all the warning Ianto gets before he’s being lifted, one of Jack’s arms around his hand and the other scooping his legs out from under him, and Jack’s running the both of them toward the pool.

“Jack Harkness, don’t you dare!” Ianto shouts, but it’s too late and with a giddy laugh, Jack is launching them into the air and out over the water. Ianto yelps, even as his mind thinks he probably ought to be taking a breath, and then they go under.

\-----

Jack loses his grip on Ianto underwater, and when Ianto struggles to the surface spluttering and wiping furiously at the water streaming over his eyes, he finds Jack is already - wisely - backing away toward the shallow end of the pool, still laughing and looking unfairly hot with his soaking shorts and hair plastered across his forehead. Ianto had a brief moment of annoyance, a knee-jerk reaction to the water and surprise, but in truth, he’s pretty drunk and feeling entirely too happy to be angry. Jack’s attractiveness when all wet is, in fact, seeming like more and more of a fair trade-off for the discomfort of soaked clothing, and by the time Ianto gets his feet under him, swimming forward a few strokes until he can touch the bottom, he’s smiling and already plotting revenge of a sweeter kind. After all, his last ploy seemed rather effective, even if it did land him in the pool.

The water feels heavy in his clothes, and he knows that in any other circumstance, he’d probably be worried about the effect of chlorine on his clothes, basic as they are, but right now his focus is much narrower and fully on the boy in front of him. Jack is still laughing, grinning at Ianto like he’s quite proud of the little stunt. When he sees that Ianto is grinning back, the laughter trails off, and the look turns fond. That too shifts, when he catches the glint in Ianto’s eye and the predatory tilt his lips have taken on.

Ianto advances slowly, moving through the water like a cat stalking prey. Jack swallows visibly, and Ianto can see his eyes darken just a little as he takes in, for the first time, just how the water is molding the clothes to Ianto’s body.  _ Good _ , Ianto thinks; desire is exactly what he wants to work with. Jack steps backward under his approach nevertheless, and Ianto likes that too, because all it is doing is backing Jack into a corner and he can work very well with that as well.

By the time he gets up close, he can see Jack’s chest heaving just a little as he breathes faster, and Ianto lets his grin turn as wicked and playful as his eyes. What’s started as a game is suddenly feeling much more urgent than it has all evening, and he no longer wants to tease simply for the pleasure of knowing it has an effect. He wants more now, tequila heavy thoughts and so many weeks of building desire cresting into a low throb of pure  _ want _ running through him, increasing exponentially each time Jack’s eyes drag over him, each time Jack’s tongue flicks out to lick wetly as his own lower lip. Ianto intends to take over that job for himself.

Jack’s mouth drops open slightly when Ianto takes that last step in, though whether in protest or invitation isn’t clear. Ianto smirks at him, hands coming up to rest on the tiled wall on either side of Jack’s body, trapping him in the cage of Ianto’s arms. Ianto can feel the heat radiating off Jack’s skin in direct contrast to the cool water lapping at their sides, and he wants to curl himself into it, wants to press up against Jack until he can’t tell where he ends and Jack starts. He settles, for the moment, for ducking his head in close and nosing just along Jack’s jaw and up to his ear.

Ianto feels so warm, so alternatingly light and heavy, the alcohol in his system makes his movements feel slow even while his blood feels like it is pumping hot and fast with how very much he wants. Every thought and word and touch feels more like foreplay than flirting now, like the slow build toward more - more skin, more touch, more connection. The intensity of it, of wanting it, is staggering. All he wants is for Jack to be as overwhelmed as he is right now, and his grin widens when a visible shiver runs through Jack as he leans in close.

He lets his lips trace a path then, fluttering touches to ear and jaw and chin, before lifting his mouth and on one slow exhale, leaning the rest of the way in to press his lips against Jack’s in a real kiss.

Jack breathes in sharply, mouth pliant and open under Ianto’s, and for a moment, time is frozen as they rest there, a little stunned and breathless at the connection. In the next second though, Jack is pressing back urgently, mouth moving in near-frantic need as he drinks Ianto in with lips and tongue and teeth. Ianto’s the first to moan this time, the taste of Jack sharp and sweet all at once, unfamiliar alcohol mixing with the warmth of Jack’s own unique taste.

When Ianto sucks Jack’s lower lip between his teeth, Jack’s hands grapple at his waist, pulling him in solid and close until their hips and chests are pressed so tight, they’re nearly fused. Ianto nibbles at the flesh gently and Jack groans and bucks against him, and Ianto feels tingling sparks erupting down his spine and out along every nerve. He soothes over Jack’s lip with his tongue, before releasing it to lick into Jack’s mouth in earnest, chasing his tongue along Jack’s own a little desperately.

Ianto can feel broad hands starting to smooth down his sides, sliding under the wet cotton of his shirt and tucking fingertips into the waistband of his shorts. He wants more of that, wants those warm palms to move lower, but before he can wiggle in closer or shift in encouragement and suggestion, he is knocked away from Jack completely by the collision of a solid, heavy body against them.

He nearly goes under again, but Jack catches his arm and holds him up, all the while snarling with near-murderous rage at the boy who slammed into them. The guy looks like your average university student, and Ianto can see - now that his vision has cleared from the impact and haze of kissing - that the guy had been diving for a beach ball when he ran into them, and that he is very obviously intoxicated.

“Sorry!” he slurs, backing away when Jack continues to look dangerously pissed off.

When their little corner of the pool is empty again, Jack turns back to Ianto with a crooked smile and still-hungry eyes, but he doesn’t push back in for another kiss right away and Ianto hopes it’s just because the moment is broken and not because Jack’s changed his mind about kissing in general. Because Ianto really likes the kissing. Would very much like to do more of it, in fact. Soon, preferably, if his booze-fueled libido has any say in the matter.

Before he can express this (and he’s pretty sure he could have expressed it  _ amazingly _ in the form of his tongue inside Jack’s mouth), an involuntary shiver runs through him from the cooler night air hitting his wet skin. Jack catches the tremor, and his face morphs instantly into an expression of concern.

“How about we get you into something dry, tiger,” he says, using his grip on Ianto’s arm to turn him toward the pool steps.

“Or, you could warm me up,” Ianto offers teasingly. Jack looks like he’s giving it considerable consideration, but in the end, shakes it off.

“Dry clothes first, then we’ll see,” he responds with a soft smile.

When Jack helps him out of the pool, Ianto starts to really shake, even though the night isn’t all that cold. Still, with as much as he’s had to drink and the cool pool water streaming down his skin from where his clothes are plastered to his body, his skin is prickling with goosebumps and dry clothes are starting to sound really good.

Jack leads them into the house, waving off Ianto’s worries about tracking water inside, and as it seems most of the crowd has moved outside by now, it isn’t as difficult to make it to the kitchen. By the time they get to Jack’s room, Ianto’s teeth are chattering, and Jack is rubbing at his arms to try and get some warmth back into them.

“Hold on a sec; let me get you some towels,” he murmurs, letting go of Ianto reluctantly. “Or do you want to get in the shower to warm up?”

Despite the chills running through him, Ianto feels a flash of heat at the thought of Jack helping him ‘warm up’ in the shower. Which sounds lovely, and a little bit overwhelming and thrilling, but also, is probably not exactly what Jack means. So, given that, and the fact that he is starting to also feel a little tired from the alcohol in his system instead of just giggly and bright, he thinks the shower probably isn’t worth it. He’d likely end up warm, sure, but also be entirely too inclined to just crawl into Jack’s big bed after getting out. As he’s not sure Jack would be climbing in after him instead of returning to the party, he’s not willing to risk it.

“No, towels are fine,” he says, arms crossed over his body to rub at his skin like Jack had been.

It doesn’t take long for Jack to dash into his bathroom and return with several large fluffy towels. He drapes one over Ianto’s hair and rubs it dry, and it is a testament to his level of intoxication and infatuation that Ianto doesn’t immediately bat his hands away. Instead, he begins to work at the button of his shorts, all thoughts of modesty gone for the evening. When the shorts drop down his legs, to be kicked into a damp pile near the washing basket in the corner, leaving Ianto in nothing but his boxers and t-shirt, Jack startles - like he hadn’t been aware of Ianto’s undressing, and his hands drop from Ianto’s hair as he stares and swallows heavily. Under the heat of that look, Ianto isn’t feeling so cold anymore.

Ianto takes advantage of the new space between them to pull at the hem of his shirt, lifting it over his head as smoothly as one can handle a soaking wet piece of cotton and tossing it aside as well. He thinks briefly and hazily of a time just a few weeks ago when he had hesitated to strip even one layer in front of the other boy in this very room, but it seems like a lifetime ago right now. Where once there was shyness, now all he feels is the hope that Jack is going to like what he sees.

Jack swallows again, mouth working over words he can’t seem to actually say, and eyes roaming over the planes and curves of Ianto’s body. Ianto can feel his skin heating, a flush of desire pinking his skin everywhere Jack’s gaze lands. It’s enough to give Ianto the courage to lift his hands again, hooking them hesitantly into the waistband of his underwear, but before he can work up the nerve to pull them down, Jack seems to shake himself from the trance and steps in to catch his hands up and away.

Ianto feels a sting of rejection for a moment, but Jack is still looking at him with wide pupils and lips shiny from where he can’t stop licking over them, and when he speaks, his voice is a lust-roughened rasp.

“ _ Ianto _ ,” he starts, seems almost to get lost in just the name, taking a half step back in closer and loosening his hold to reach for Ianto’s hips, before he catches himself and tightens his grip on Ianto’s hands instead. “How about you let me get you some warm clothes, okay? I want… I want to take care of you.”

Ianto feels a glow that has nothing to do with sex warming through him at the words, and even though he’d kind of like to see if he can make Jack’s voice sound even lower, he really can’t argue with Jack wanting to take care of him. He nods, tightening his fingers around Jack’s briefly, before stepping back to let Jack go and find him clothing.

Jack rifles through his drawers quickly, tossing some simple black nylon gym shorts and a blue t-shirt Ianto’s way and pulling out a pair of faded jeans for himself.

“You can change out here; I’ll, uh, go in the bathroom,” Jack says, sounding like he’d kind of like to stay but isn’t going to. Ianto just shrugs and reaches for his underwear again, laughing a little when Jack seemingly tries to do the gentlemanly thing and averts his eyes, turning and nearly running off to the bathroom. This, too, is such a change, from the Jack that had wondered why Ianto didn’t want to see him in nothing but glitter on his skin to a Jack that seems to be trying, very hard indeed, to not toe too many boundary lines.

Jack emerges a few minutes later, once Ianto is dressed, clad in only the jeans with his torso still bare and Ianto really thinks hard about fighting to stay right here and obliterate those damn boundaries (he’s pretty sure the lines are already feeling as blurred as his vision anyway) instead of heading back to the party. He can’t even begin to form an argument for it though before Gray’s head pops around the doorframe.

“I thought I saw you guys disappearing down here,” he accuses with a smirk. “But you can’t sneak off to have sex just yet; I’m trying to get an epic game of truth or dare going, and it won’t be the same without you.”

“Truth or dare?” Ianto asks incredulously. “Since when did you turn into a thirteen-year-old?”

“Um, in 2006?” Gray responds with a grin, making Ianto roll his eyes. “Besides, truth or dare is like a party  _ tradition _ .”

“It’s true,” Jack adds. “Just be glad he isn’t suggesting seven minutes in heaven.”

Gray cocks his head in consideration of that, and Ianto figures truth or dare might actually be the safer option. Given his luck with these kinds of games, he’d probably get stuck in the closet with Rhiannon or something while Jack got to make out with some hot person.

“You know, truth or dare sounds like fun, now that I think about it,” Ianto says hurriedly. “We’re in.”

\-----

The group Gray has gathered around the living room floor isn’t too large, as the party seems to be beginning to wind down and people are slowly leaving in droves. It’s only about ten people plus the three of them. Rhiannon has been pulled in (Ianto’s sure he doesn’t want to know where Tosh is or what she’s doing), and Tyler is there too, along with a number of unfamiliar faces. Ianto and Jack are pressed side by side on the couch, waiting for Gray to kickstart what could be either a very boring or very dangerous game.

At first, it starts off rather lame, especially considering some of the crazy things Ianto’s seen going on so far tonight, with people mostly picking dare and those dares consisting of having to drink various things ranging from just liquor to Tabasco sauce. But then it is Gray’s chance to ask, and when he turns a Harkness-patented smirk Ianto’s way, Ianto knows things are about to get more interesting.

“Truth or dare, sweetheart?”

Ianto is tempted to say ‘truth,’ because he’s a little nervous about what a dare from Gray might entail, but even this drunk, he knows he can’t risk it. There are too many things he can’t tell the truth about right now, and all it would take is one wrong question to reveal too much. So, with a nervous hitch in his voice, he says, “Dare.”

Gray’s grin turns blinding, and he winks at Jack before looking back at Ianto and saying, “I’d hoped you’d say that.”

Jack is whispering, “ _ If you want to run now, I’ll create a distraction _ ,” but Ianto isn’t going to back down - not tonight and not to Gray. “Bring it,” he says with more confidence than he feels.

“Eager are we?” Gray teases. “Fine then. Ianto, I dare you get Jack ‘standing at full attention’ without touching him at all. Might I suggest a strip tease?”

“Um, I think I’m just gonna go get another drink,” Rhiannon says quickly as Ianto feels his face go hot and Jack mutters, “ _ fucking voyeur _ ” beside him. Gray just keeps grinning, and Ianto isn’t sure what the guy is enjoying more - the possibility of seeing Ianto’s seduction technique or the potential for massive embarrassment for Jack. However, Gray has yet to discover that Ianto doesn’t back down from a challenge, that Ianto  _ wins _ challenges, and this is no exception. Ianto’s not going to give him the satisfaction of watching either, oh no. He’s got a better idea.

He turns a blinding smile back on Gray, whose smirk falters just a tad before it turns to curiosity, and then Ianto leans in close to Jack - not touching - and breathes into his ear, “You might want get ready for this.”

Jack shivers just a little just from that, and Ianto’s pretty sure this isn’t going to be all that hard (or, well, perhaps more accurately this is going to be really hard, really fast). He’s still glad for the strong buzz of jungle juice in his system though, or he’s pretty sure he wouldn’t be brave enough for this - challenge or no. But he’s feeling good, and sexy, and like he wants another win for the night, so he just goes with it, and begins to speak.

“Do you have any idea how gorgeous you look right now? How hot I think you are every time I see you?” he murmurs. “I think you do, given that you decided not to put a shirt on. But I bet you don’t know what that makes me want to do to you, how hard it is to keep myself from running my hands all over you. I want to drag my fingers across your skin until you moan for me and beg for more.”

His voice is low and dark in Jack’s ear, quiet enough that the group can’t really catch most of what he’s saying, but he feels a surprising thrill just knowing that they are watching. He’s pretty sure he’s blushing too, as sexy talk of any kind is nothing he’s very practiced at, but just like the thrill of being watched, he’s feeling a little kick of power at being able to do this. And it’s not like what he’s saying isn’t true, he  _ does _ want, so much. Thank God for liquid courage though, or he’d have to quit right now. Instead he presses on, words quieter and closer to Jack’s ear as they get more intense.

“I want to use my mouth on you, too, want to lick over every single one of your freckles. I bet you have them  _ everywhere _ . I want to run my tongue under the waist of your jeans, pop the button with my mouth and pull down the zipper with my teeth until I can feel you hard against my face. Want to mouth over you, suck you through cotton until you can’t stand it, ‘til you’re begging me to strip you and suck you into my mouth.”

Jack is practically panting, staring at the wall across from them with an unfocused gaze. His tongue keeps darting out to lick along his lower lip, and his eyes flutter shut briefly at little intervals. Behind them, Ianto can hear some low whistles and murmured whisperings but he can’t find it in himself to turn away, Jack’s wrecked expression is too hot to turn from, and it doesn’t matter what their audience thinks because this has all at once gone beyond game. He’s enjoying this now, audience near forgotten, and his focus fully on taking Jack apart, piece by delicious piece.

“I haven’t even started on what I want  _ you _ to do to  _ me _ either,” he adds, resisting the urge to palm over his own swelling cock when Jack chokes on nothing and bites at his lip hard to keep from moaning. “And I want you to do  _ so much _ . I want you to kiss me, down my neck and shoulders, want your lips on my chest. I want you to suck marks into my skin like you did the other night, want to be able to look at the bruises later and feel your mouth on me still. I want you to drag your teeth over every one of my sensitive spots, want your fingers digging into my thighs, spreading me open for you, under you.”

He can feel himself hardening further in the borrowed shorts -  _ Jack’s _ shorts, and everything has faded to background noise except for this boy in front of him and his own bold words. It’s scary almost, how strongly he wants so much right now, and a part of him still knows that if it weren’t for the drinks, he wouldn’t be here, but he doesn’t care - doesn’t care why he’s here, only feels the thrill of the illicitness and wants more. In this moment, this one crazy moment, he wants nothing more than to share every single one of his fantasies with Jack, to whisper dirty thoughts into his ear until he comes from Ianto’s voice alone. With that dizzying thought in mind, Ianto throws the last of his hesitancy to the wind and goes for broke, daring to say what he’s never voiced to anyone before.

“Would you do that, Captain? Would you lick and bite and kiss your way down my body? And once you had me spread open and panting, would you suck me? Or run your tongue lower, licking into me, using your tongue to open me up for your cock?”

Jack’s eyes fly open at that, and a whispered ‘ _ fuck _ ’ falls from his mouth. He stares at Ianto hard before swallowing back another moan and dropping his head back against the couch behind him, squeezing his eyes shut tight like he’s trying to hold on to the visual, and a pretty flush spreads high across his cheekbones. Ianto can see now that Jack’s given up all pretense of not letting them know he has an erection, is in fact pressing into his hardened cock with the heel of his hand as little breathy whimpers escape his lips. All thoughts of the dare are gone, in that moment, and all that is left in every cell of Ianto’s body is  _ want _ , so strong it is nearly  _ need _ .

He’s pretty sure if anyone is still watching, it’s clear he’s won, so he throws the ‘no touching’ rule to the wind, not that he’d have cared much about breaking it now. He crashes his lips down against Jack’s own, and Jack doesn’t hesitate at the surprise of the contact, kissing back eager and needy. His hands grab at Ianto too, tugging at him until Ianto throws a leg over his lap to straddle him, his arse on the sofa in between the vee of Jack’s legs.

From this new position, Ianto can feel for himself just how hot Jack is, pressing up against him, and he can’t stop from grinding his own erection against Jack’s body. He doesn’t bother trying to hold back the moan that rips from his throat either, as the perfect friction of it shoots sparks through him, making his toes curl from the pleasure of it.  _ It would have been much easier to grind into Jack if he were straddling me _ , Ianto thought idly, but he shook it off. Jack is moaning just as loudly into his mouth and pushing back up with his hips as he pulls Ianto against him again by the waist to repeat the motion. For what feels like an eternity, there is nothing but this, rocking together and kissing frantically as Ianto feels the low burn of orgasm start to build slowly in his belly.

They are interrupted, what could be a minute or could be an hour later, by a loud throat clearing. Ianto glares at the perpetrator - Gray, naturally - before ignoring him and turning back to the more important task at hand. He’s entirely too drunk on alcohol and Jack to care about anyone else in the room or to think about what his sober self might say to his actions.

“You know, Ianto, it’s  _ your _ turn to ask someone ‘truth or dare.’ You’re stalling the game here.”

“Screw the game,” Ianto growls loudly, not even bothering to pull away from Jack’s lips completely.

“That doesn’t seem to be the only thing you want to screw,” Gray teases happily, and Ianto turns again, ready to lunge and make Gray just  _ shut up _ so he can keep kissing, but it’s been enough of an intrusion to shake Jack into a bit more clarity.

“Tiger, maybe we should slow down,” he murmurs against the delicate skin of Ianto’s temple, pressing a kiss there, turning him back around. He’s still pressed hot against Ianto’s though and can’t seem to stop placing little wet kisses along every inch of available skin. “You have no idea how much you turn me on, but I don’t want to rush this. And we do kinda have an audience.”

“No, don’t wanna stop,” Ianto whispers, voice nearly broken with how much he  _ wants _ . This isn’t enough anymore either, this slow grinding on the couch. Now that he’s said it out loud, he wants to make his words into reality, wants Jack to take him somewhere and strip him down and fuck him. “Your room. We can go to your room.”

“ _ Ianto _ ,” Jack groans, though his hips jerking up against Ianto are at odds with the protest in his tone.

“ _ Jack _ ,” Ianto teases back, warm fire stoked low as he grinds back again. “Need you,” he breathes into the shell of Jack’s ear.

“Fuck,” Jack says breathlessly surging up to kiss him again.

It is more teeth and tongue than actual kissing, but Ianto hardly cares because it feels exactly right. When Jack pulls back this time, there is only a thin ring of blue outlining the black of his pupils, and he’s breathing heavy again. He pushes at Ianto’s hips to dislodge him and Ianto starts to whine in protest until he realises Jack is just trying to stand.

He scrambles back then, tugging Jack up with him and unable to resist reeling him back in for another kiss even as they start to stumble towards the kitchen. Ianto’s pretty sure he hears a catcall or two, but he can’t be bothered to care, too caught up in the dizzy rush through his blood from the alcohol and kissing. A little voice in his mind is whispering that this is all maybe too fast, too much, that he’s become so caught up in words and teasing that things have spiralled out of control, but he can’t think clearly enough to hold onto the voice or the worry.

It takes awhile to get up the stairs of the kitchen and down the hall, between Jack’s continued halfhearted protests about slowing down - whispering about having all the time in the world for more and not needing to rush it - and then subsequent pressing of Ianto against the wall as he licks into Ianto’s mouth and undoes all his own words with wandering lips and hands. Not that Ianto is complaining. In fact, most of his higher thought processes seem to have been cancelled out by the fact that he has Jack, gorgeous shirtless Jack, following him down the hall, with eyes full of warmth and heavy with want. Right now, all the time in the world doesn’t sound like enough.

When they crash through the door into Jack’s bedroom, the sudden cool quiet is such a shock after the loud, heated, smoky air of the other rooms, that Ianto is momentarily pulled from the cloud of lust and drink he’s been swimming in. Jack, likewise, seems to pause, stepping back a few inches from his tight press against Ianto and looking like he’s trying very hard to hold onto the last remnants of a clear head. Ianto, however, is pretty sure he lost his clear head back during body shots, and he has no qualms about helping Jack lose the rest of his own.

“Kiss me,” he murmurs, drifting his lips in the barest of brushes against Jack’s.

“Ianto,” Jack says again, low and heated, and Ianto is pretty sure he’s never loved his name more than he has tonight.

“Just kiss me,” he repeats before Jack can say more, and this time, when he leans in, it’s to tease his tongue along the seam of Jack’s mouth, coaxing the boy back into a deep kiss.

He can feel more than hear the rumble of approval in Jack’s chest, feels it rolling and echoing in his own body as his hands smooth down Jack’s back to tug lightly at his waist, pulling them both into a stumble toward the bed. When his back hits the mattress, Ianto feels a flash of doubt - that little nagging voice telling him that he doesn’t want it to go down like this, not really, but he quashes it quickly because right now his dick is feeling more important than his head, and it wants this. So, so badly.

Jack crawls up onto the bed after him, a little slower and like he’s still trying to get a hold over things. Ianto can’t handle that though, because if Jack starts letting in thought, then Ianto’s not going to be able to stop his own thoughts and this whole thing is going to disintegrate into  _ thinking _ instead of  _ doing _ and he is so damn tired of overthinking every fucking thing. For once, he just wants to be reckless. For once, he wants to want, without talking himself out of it.

With that attitude in mind, he presses back in close to kiss Jack again and angles his body until he’s flipped them, Jack’s back against the sheets now. Ianto crawls in between Jack’s legs again; being horizontal makes him getting at this angle so much easier, rolling his hips in one long sinuous motion that tears an appreciative sound from Jack’s throat and makes Ianto feel like he’s on fire.

He does it again, and again, before leaning down to get his mouth back on the salty slick of Jack’s neck. He licks and nibbles his way from neck to jaw to ear, rolling down against the hard body beneath him all the while, until the air is heavy and thick with heat and the broken moans that are coming so often Ianto can’t tell where his sounds end and Jack’s begin. He’s just sneaking a hand between them to start working at the button on Jack’s jeans when Jack tears his mouth away from where he’s been sucking at Ianto’s tongue. He grabs Ianto’s hand to halt its progress before speaking.

“Wait, wait. Just…  _ oh Ianto _ … hold on, just wait a second,” he manages to pant out, even though his hips are still moving in time with the slow thrusts of Ianto’s own.

“Don’t wanna wait,” Ianto whispers, blowing a line of cool air over Jack’s throat before leaning back in to lick at the sweat beading along tan skin tantalisingly. “Want you to fuck me.”

“ _ Fuck _ ,” Jack groans, tangling fingers in Ianto’s hair so he can pull until Ianto turns his head and Jack can get at his mouth again. Jack fucks his tongue into Ianto’s mouth nearly desperately, making him moan low and needy at the thought of the act it is imitating. Just when it’s getting really intense though, Jack pulls back again, tilting his forehead against Ianto’s own while he catches his breath.

“Jesus, Ianto, you can’t say shit like that.”

“Why not?” Ianto hums, body feeling heavier with each passing minute as his blood alcohol level teeters him between horny drunk and sleepy drunk. “‘s true. Don’t you want to?”

“So much,” Jack says fervently. “So, so much. But not like this, not when we’re both drunk.”

“Cap,” Ianto whines, pressing every inch of himself that he can up against the heated skin of Jack’s body. “It’s okay; I want to.”

“I want it, too,” Jack murmurs, kissing along Ianto’s jaw like he can’t help himself even though he’s trying to stop. “But I want you with me when we do. I want all of you here with me.”

Jack’s tone is closer to soothing now and his breathing is slowing a bit as he gets it further under control, and Ianto feels a pleasant ache in his heart at the words. But his cock is still desperately hard, and he knows Jack wants it as much as him, and it’s awfully difficult to give into sensible, wonderful words when everything he wants is splayed out below him. He kisses Jack again, a kiss which is returned enthusiastically, and hums in pleasure when he pulls another stuttered breath from the boy under him with a particularly wicked twist of his hips that slots his erection against Jack’s own  _ just _ right.

“I’m here,” he insists, grinding down again and letting one hand roam over Jack’s chest, fingers catching lightly against a nipple and making Jack arch up underneath him and pull him back in for yet another kiss.

For a few brief seconds, Jack’s hands are sliding down his back and over the swell of his arse, and he is sure Jack has decided that they are both present enough to do this thing. Which is  _ so _ okay because Ianto is feeling loose and languid and turned on. He kind of wants nothing more than to be pushed back into the mattress and fucked into until he comes, and then to sleep. Which maybe, if he was sober, he’d recognise as a not-so -great reason for having sex with Jack for the very first time - especailly with all these damn emotions involved - but drunk, it sounds just about perfect.

It doesn’t matter in the end, though, because it is  _ only _ those brief seconds until Jack’s hands are sliding back up to safer territory and he is breaking the kiss again, turning his fact into Ianto’s neck and placing desperate sloppy kisses along his throat and collarbone as he pants heavily.

“Tiger,” he pleads. “Please, you have no idea how hard this is to say, you’re  _ killing me _ here, but I want to do this right. I have to do this right, with you.  _ Please _ .”

It’s this that finally gets him, the fact that Jack Harkness is literally shaking with desire underneath him, is pressed hot and desperate against him, and is still refusing to take what Ianto is so willing to give, because he wants to do this right. For Ianto.

Ianto may be drunk, and he may be so fucking horny he wants to scream, but finally, his heart is louder than his cock. He still can’t stop the frustrated groan that escapes him as he collapses down against Jack’s chest though, movements no longer sexual but defeated. Jack laughs softly at the sound, but it is strained too and Ianto knows, by the heat pressed against him and the continuing little pushes of Jack’s hips up into him, that this isn’t easy for Jack either.

Still, Jack manages to run a soothing steady hand down his back, and with his head pillowed against Jack’s chest and the barely-there light from the slim crescent moon falling over them from the window, Ianto can feel himself calming and falling closer to the sleepy side of drunk.

“You want me, though?” he mumbles as his eyes blink heavily once, twice, three times before slipping closed.

“Yes.  _ Fuck _ yes,” Jack responds immediately, sounding like he’s not as close to sleep as Ianto, and is still struggling with not flipping them over and pressing against Ianto until they both come. Ianto smiles drowsily at the idea of it, but with each passing moment, finds it harder to mind that they’re going to be sleeping instead.

A few minutes later, as his mind is getting fuzzy and heavy in the way that only being really drunk and really tired can bring, he swears he hears the door crack open. When he peeks out through bleary eyes, he sees John, Rhiannon, Tosh and her guy friend from earlier on today standing sheepishly in the light spilling in from the hall. He’s pretty sure they’re having a whispered conversation with Jack, because he can feel the rumble of Jack’s quiet voice where he’s got an ear pressed against Jack’s chest, but he’s fading fast and can’t quite follow it. He manages to catch only snippets of sentences, things like ‘ _ crash in here _ ’ and ‘ _ puppy piles _ ’ interspersed with Jack’s weakening protests.

He must lose eventually because Ianto feels the bed dip heavily under four more weights as John, Rhiannon, Tosh and Tosh’s guy friend clamber on and stretch out on either side of them. Ianto giggles to himself when he thinks of what they might have walked in on, if things had gone another way, but he’s not sure the laughter ever actually manifests since no one asks him what he’s giggling about.

Just before he passes out, probably half an hour later, with fingers carding through his hair carefully and the warmth of several bodies all around him, he hears the door one more time. This intruder doesn’t wait for invitation, just climbs up onto the bed (despite Jack’s grumble of token protest about ‘ _ having your own bed, damn it _ ’) and lays out lengthwise along the foot of the bed, snuggling up against Ianto’s legs.

“Night, sweetheart,” he hears, and that along with the kick he feels Jack delivering to a subsequent chuckle, tells him for sure it’s Gray. As if it could ever be anybody else.

He wonders idly, as he listens to the weird synchronicity of so many people breathing so close, if tomorrow he is going to wake up with regrets. He hopes not, thinks not, as long as he can remember this feeling right now, of safety and contentment, but he does know somewhere in the corners of his mind that he and Jack have yet to even talk about what they are, what they could be. What they want to be. Maybe it’s a good thing Jack stopped them, but he’s too tired to really be sure. His mind is drifting pleasantly in near-sleep, and he feels unable to worry too much, or think too hard. He can save that for tomorrow.

His last thought before it all goes black is to wonder which of the group is going to be the most freaked out by their sleeping situation in the morning, and hoping it won’t be him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm guessing you understand why i split the chapter where i did? hope you enjoyed all the sexiness ;). as much as my beta princessoftheworlds didn't want them to stop, them having sex for the first time while drunk? i ain't about that life. she agreed haha.
> 
> hope you enjoyed!


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ianto wakes after the party with a massive hangover. How is he going to react to what happened with Jack while he was under the influence?

Ianto wakes up for the first time around 4am when nausea pulls him from sleep. He doesn’t have time to think about much, besides trying not to kick Gray in the head or elbow Rhiannon or step on John, as he slides out of bed and stumbles blearily into the bathroom. In fact, he’s pretty sure he’s still drunk. Unfortunately, that thought just leads him to remembering how much alcohol he’d consumed, which makes his stomach roll sickeningly again, and then he’s puking too much to think further.

When he’s finished heaving his guts out, he feels a cool hand on the back of his neck, turns his head where it’s resting uncaringly on the toilet seat in his misery, to find Jack blinking down at him and looking just as tired and wrecked as he feels. The only saving grace is that he’s entirely too out of it to be embarrassed about Jack watching him throw up and so instead feels nothing but gratitude when Jack hands over a large glass of water and two white painkillers.

Ianto uses the first sip to rinse his mouth out into the toilet. He then tosses back the pills into his mouth and downs the rest of the water in large swallows, handing the empty glass back before trying to stand. Jack helps with that too, catching his elbow and steadying him as he rises, and Ianto wonders how many times Jack has been in his position - drunk and hungover all at once, entirely miserable. He wonders too, if anyone had ever been there for Jack the way Jack is right now for Ianto. Somehow he doubts it.

When he’s up, he grabs onto the sink for a moment as the world stops spinning before turning on the tap to try and rinse the taste out of his mouth some more. Jack does him one better, handing over an unopened toothbrush wordlessly, and  _ god _ , if Ianto’s mouth didn’t taste so awful right now, he could kiss him. Jack seems to get the sentiment from Ianto’s expression, because he smirks, then winces as if even smiling too big hurts, and refills the glass to swallow down his own painkillers while Ianto brushes his teeth. It is startlingly domestic, given the fact that they are two eighteen-year-old boys (well, one nearly eighteen) not really yet recovering from a house party.

When Ianto’s mouth feels minty-fresh again, he rinses out the toothbrush and sticks it in the holder right next to Jack’s own. Jack bumps him gently out of the way to get at the sink, splashing water over his face and neck and then squeezing a line of toothpaste onto his own toothbrush. Ianto is still a little dizzy, still very tired, and not very clear-headed, and he blames the lingering intoxication for the reason he doesn’t go immediately back to bed himself, instead lingering and watching Jack brush and spit. It should be gross, is a little to be honest, but Jack’s still shirtless, hair spiky and wet, and even hungover at 4am, he’s gorgeous enough to be watching. He arches an eyebrow at Ianto’s staring, but Ianto is caught in that strange muzzy feeling between sleep and wakefulness, the dull throb of a headache just threatening behind his eyes, and so shrugs at being caught. He’s pretty sure this is all going to seem like a dream in the proper morning anyhow.

It helps that they aren’t talking, the strange silence easy between them. When he’s done, Jack places a hand back on Ianto’s skin, brushing over his bicep and urging him out of the bathroom, clicking off the light behind them as they stumble back into the bedroom. Rhiannon and John have shifted in their sleep, crawling toward the warmth of the other bodies still on the bed, and Rhiannon now has her head pillowed against Tosh’s stomach and her arms wrapped around Gray’s legs where they are curled up, knees pointing toward the headboard, and John has crawled fetal position towards the gap that Rhiannon has left between her and the headboard. Ianto wishes he could think straight enough to find his phone and take a picture because it would make excellent blackmail material, but he finds he is too tired to even hold onto the thought for long, let alone act on it.

Instead, at Jack’s insistent tugging, he climbs back onto the bed, scooting under the covers this time on the square of mattress not currently occupied by the rest of the group. He can’t unfurl all the way, because Gray is still sprawled out over the foot of the bed, but the sheets feel soft and cool and the pillow is helping to keep the headache at bay, so he just doesn’t care. Moments later, Jack is crawling in beside him, hesitating for just a second before sliding under the covers next to Ianto. Ianto’s pretty sure there’s a reason for that hesitation, something nagging at the edges of his mind about their complicated relationship, but thinking hurts and Jack feels warm and wonderful beside him and so he just lets his mind blank peacefully and scoots back until Jack is spooned around him, his chest to Ianto’s back. An arm, tentative and gentle, comes up around his waist - hesitating again as it hovers over him but eventually settling into a comforting weight around him.

Ianto thinks he hears Jack say his name, breathing it against his skin as the boy noses into his neck softly, but then he is asleep again and he doesn’t think anything for a while.

When Ianto wakes up again, it is after eleven, and though he certainly doesn’t feel like singing, he also doesn’t feel as awful as he’d expected.

He remembers, then, getting up hours earlier to puke and Jack taking care of him, making him drink water and take those tablets, and feels really fucking grateful for the fact that Jack has so much experience with hangovers because Ianto’s pretty sure without that little 4am interlude, he’d be feeling like death warmed over right about now. It’s only after having taken stock of his body, dull headache and sour stomach but not unmanageable, that he realises he didn’t just wake up, somebody woke him.

“Ianto, you really need to get up now,” Gray is murmuring, shaking gently at his shoulder. His voice is quiet, but Ianto isn’t sure if that’s for his benefit or because Gray feels too shitty to talk loudly himself. He certainly doesn’t look like the cocky, handsome guy Ianto’s become used to - his mousey-hair is disheveled with curls sticking every which way and his eyes bloodshot and tight in the way Ianto knows his own face looks when he’s fighting a migraine.

Ianto bats away the hand still jostling him, the motion making nausea threaten to surface again, and scowls briefly at Gray as he tries to blink himself awake into further consciousness. He can still feel Jack snuggled into his back, warm even breaths telling him that Jack’s still asleep ( _ and why couldn’t Gray have woken him up first, huh? _ Ianto thinks crabbily). Rhiannon is up, too, though, sitting at the foot of the bed and rubbing at her eyes and looking much more miserable than Ianto feels, and Tosh stumbles back into the room from - presumably - the bathroom to collapse into an ungainly pile on the floor as if even getting back in the bed is too much effort. John and Tosh’s friend are nowhere to be seen.

It seems bed, or floor, are not valid options anymore anyway, though, because Gray is poking at him again, apologetically but still annoying.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he mumbles, tugging at Ianto’s arm now until Ianto sits up (Jack makes a snuffling whining noise behind him as his arm is dislodged, which would probably be unfairly cute if Ianto wasn’t feeling similarly whiny about being forced from the warm comfort of bed and sleep).

“Gray, can’t you just let me sleep?” Ianto grumps, pulling his arm away from the older boy’s grasp and attempting to scoot back down into the cocoon of blankets and Jack’s body.

“Would that I could,” Gray says, voice scratchy and still insistently pulling Ianto up. “But River just called to tell me they’re half an hour away from him, and considering the fact that my cleaning crew isn’t scheduled to show up for another hour, I think you’ll probably thank me for sparing you the yelling that is bound to happen when they get home.”

“What?” Ianto yelps, because even if they aren’t  _ his _ parents, even if Gray seems to be giving him the out so he won’t have to suffer any of the immediate fallout, Ianto can’t stop the automatic panic at the thought of Elizabeth and Franklin finding out about the party.

That shout, along with Ianto’s tossing aside of the covers as he starts to pull himself up and out of bed, is enough to wake Jack at least a little, and he makes a half-hearted grab for Ianto, mumbling, “Shhh, tiger, come back to bed.”

“Jack, your parents are going to be home in thirty minutes,” Ianto tells him, glaring at Gray because, well, the party  _ was _ his idea.

“Shit,” Jack groans, more awake now and throwing an arm over his eyes as he flops onto his back. “Stragglers?” he asks a few seconds later, sounding much calmer than Ianto feels.

“Just you lot, I kicked the last of the rest out ten minutes ago,” Gray says.

“Did you check the guest rooms?”

“And the pantry, and the music room.”

“House?” Jack asks then. Ianto just keeps looking between the brothers, a little amused and a little dazed as they carry on with the questioning, reminding Ianto of a general asking his second in command to report on the outcome of a battle. Clearly, they’ve done this before.

“Still standing.”

“How bad is it?”

“Worse than New Year’s, better than Easter holidays 2017,” Gray reports.

“Could be worse, then. Cleaning crew?”

“Not coming ‘til 12.”

“Any chance they just won’t notice?” Jack asks with the hint of a fatalistic smirk on his lips.

“Nope,” Gray responds with an answering grin. “It’s still pretty fucking wrecked. It was an excellent party.”

“Yeah, it was,” Tosh chimes in from her place on the floor, earning a laugh from the Harkness boys and a tiny whimper from Rhiannon who is still cradling her head.

“Yeah, it was,” Jack agrees, peeking out from behind his arm to look warmly at Ianto.

Ianto can’t help but smile back at that, because he may be panicking about the returning Harknesses too much to really be remembering last night too clearly, but he  _ does _ remember there being kissing and touching and the way Jack had hugged him tight when he showed up. The rest, the parts he isn’t thinking too much about quite yet, are making him feel a little nervous but he figures Jack hasn’t mocked him or kicked him out yet, so how bad could it be? Right?

“I’ll take the fall for this one,” Gray continues, like he’s offering to take his turn at doing the dishes.

“Damn right, you will, considering it was  _ your _ party,” Jack snipes back with no real heat. His eyes are still on Ianto even as he speaks, looking at him with a kind of questioning intensity that’s making Ianto feel like squirming or possibly kissing him. He’s not quite sure.

“Yeah, well, regardless, I still think it’d probably be better if your boy and his mates weren’t stuck here to see the blowup anyway,” Gray says, with a knowing look to Jack and another warm smile for Ianto.

“True. I hate to kick you out, tiger, but I think he’s right,” Jack says, letting one of his hands fall on top of Ianto’s where it is still resting on the sheets between them. “You should probably take off before they get here and let us take the heat; Mum’s shriek is loud enough to put even  _ you _ to shame.”

“You’re hilarious,” Ianto snarks, rolling his eyes at the insult and tugging his hand out from under Jack’s to smack him instead when Jack grins evilly at him. “One problem there though, asshole. Gray picked us up, so unless one of you wants to drive us back, we’re kind of stuck.”

“Shit, I forgot about that,” Gray says, while Jack just keeps grinning at Ianto like  _ asshole _ is the most endearing of pet names. Ianto rolls his eyes again but can’t hide an answering grin either.

“Not a problem,” Jack says, a minute later when a loud throat clearing from one of their siblings interrupts him and Ianto from the staring-and-grinning match they’ve got going. “You can take my car.”

He’s turning to hang off the edge of the bed and root around in a discarded pair of jeans on the floor for his keys before Ianto can protest. And it’s not like he doesn’t want to drive Jack’s car - he’d never willingly pass up the chance to drive a Harkness car, given their excellent taste - and he doesn’t have much choice even anyway, because they do need to get home somehow. But still, when Jack turns back to hand over the keys, Ianto can’t help but feel that same rush of overwhelming domestic intimacy at the act, at Jack just handing over his car to Ianto like they do this all the time. Like it isn’t a thought, because they’re a… a  _ couple _ or something. Which, well, of course, that’s exactly what they are, aren’t they? Even if it is just pretend.

Somehow, though, it has never felt quite as real to Ianto as it does in this moment, when Jack folds Ianto’s fingers over the keys easily, and brushes a surprise kiss to his lips, whispering, “No scratches, remember.”

“Yeah,” Ianto says automatically, the cool metal in his hand feeling heavy and nearly as distracting as Jack’s mouth still so close to his own that Ianto can feel the words as much as hear them.

“Good, now that that’s settled, you should really get going,” Gray cuts in, again apologetic but no less insistent. He’s pulling Ianto back and out of the bed, getting another frown from Jack for it, a look that clearly says that though Jack knows it’s necessary, he would still much rather tug Ianto back down and into a few more hours of sleep by his side. Since that clearly isn’t happening, Jack lets him go, flopping back against the pillows alone instead.

“Don’t you need to get up, too?” Ianto huffs, standing now and nudging at Tosh with his foot to get her off the floor while simultaneously looking around for his shoes - had he taken them off in here? He can’t remember, and the fact that they were a pair of crappy flip-flops he’d only thrown on in the haste of leaving the house yesterday doesn’t change the fact that Ianto would rather not go home shoeless from his first really wild party. It’s bad enough he isn’t in his own clothes.

“Nah, they can yell at me just as well while I’m in bed,” Jack says, snuggling down under the covers and looking unfairly comfortable, given the fact that Ianto has to be up and about.

Ianto rolls his eyes at the nonchalance with which Jack seems to be accepting his inevitable doom but is distracted when Gray kicks his sandals over to him. “Found these floating in the pool,” Gray says with a smirk. Ianto flashes back briefly, on cool water and warm, salty skin, and the look in Jack’s eyes when he’d…

“Thanks!” Ianto says hurriedly, sliding them onto his feet and cutting off that train of thought for a time when he isn’t standing around with four other people, three of whom need  _ never _ hear more about his shenanigans last night than Ianto can help. There is only so much siblings and friends should know, and he’s pretty sure they already know too much as it is.

“My pleasure,” Gray says, flashing white teeth at Ianto in a grin before adding. “Well,  _ someone’s _ pleasure at least, from what I remember.”

Tosh looks up sharply at that, eyes narrowing in on Ianto like she can sense sex stories, and Rhiannon looks about three seconds away from shoving her fingers in her ears and humming. Ianto ignores them all, flipping Gray off and making Jack laugh from where he is reclining on the bed and watching them all shuffle about getting ready to leave.

Ianto extracts a soggy wallet from his shorts, which he finds in a wet pile in the corner along with his t-shirt from last night. He leaves the clothes - they aren’t worth hauling home soaking wet - and pockets the wallet. When he stands up again to look around and make sure he has the bare essentials at least, a breeze drifts in from the open window and he shivers a little, the hangover making him feel chilled even in the warm air.

Jack is up immediately, and before Ianto can even process that he’s got up - still looking unfairly hot for someone who was drinking whiskey for half the night and then slept in his jeans - he’s grabbed a discarded hoodie from the back of his desk chair, handing it off to Ianto with a mumbled, “Here.”

The back of Jack’s neck turns a little red as he seems to realise what he’s just done, and Ianto finds the embarrassment endearing enough to not fight this either, instead just tugging the well-worn cotton over his head with a smile and a soft, “Thanks.”

The fabric feels good against his over-sensitive skin, and it still smells like Jack, which is maybe the most comforting thing of all. Ianto resists the urge to pull the material up to his nose to breathe more of the scent in, but only barely.

“Are we going?” Tosh grumps, having finally got up and shuffled towards the door. “Because if I can’t lay down in the back of a car soon, I’m going to lay on the floor again.”

“Yeah, we’re going,” Ianto says quickly. He gives Jack another half smile and says tentatively, “So, I’ll, um, talk to you later?”

“Yeah,” Jack says immediately, which makes Ianto feel more relieved than he expected. “I’ll call you when the screaming dies down.”

Ianto winces sympathetically, backing towards the door where Rhiannon is now waiting too. “Will it really be that bad?”

“Eh, we’ll survive,” Jack says with an unworried half-smile that makes Ianto feel slightly better about abandoning him to this fate.

“ _ Ianto _ ,” Tosh insists, tugging at him now that he’s in arm’s reach. “Any other day and I’d be happy to chill while you two act adorable, but my head is killing me and I need to lie down.”

Ianto blushes a little, because he  _ has _ been stalling just a little maybe, but instead of teasing him, Jack just steps forward and presses one more quick kiss to his lips, pulling back and turning Ianto towards the door before Ianto’s eyes can even reopen from where they’d fluttered shut in surprise.

“Go,” he says, shoving Ianto gently with a hand to his lower back.

“Now I know what all your other conquests felt like,” Ianto sighs in mock indignation.

“My other conquests didn’t get to stay the night,” Jack teases back, though there is a current of truth underlying his words.

Ianto gets in one last look at Jack’s face, all soft smiles and tired, bright eyes, and then Tosh is huffing at him again and pulling him through the doorway and with a last wave over his shoulder, the three of them are stumbling down the corridor and out into the sunshine, Gray trailing behind.

At Ianto’s questioning eyebrow, Gray shrugs, “I figure I’ll wait out here for them to get home, that way I can catch most of the wrath before they think to look for Jack.”

It makes affection swell through him again, seeing that Gray, for all his teasing and bravado, really does look out for his little brother, so Ianto doesn’t stop himself from giving into the urge to hug him. It’s quick, but just like the last time in the car, Gray looks startled at the unexpected contact, before his eyes warm and he smiles almost shyly at Ianto as he backs away. In the end, he’s a Harkness boy though, and that smile turns a little bit wicked as he throws out teasingly, “Just FYI, if you’re handing out affection in the future, I’d happily take some of that dirty talk from last night with my next hug.”

Ianto frowns in confusion for the briefest, most blissfully ignorant moment, before another flood of memories comes rushing back and he chokes on nothing as his face floods with colour. Because he can’t believe he’s forgotten, but he  _ had _ … and then there’d been… and oh  _ God _ , what about…

He doesn’t get too much time to stretch his recall though, because the girls have already climbed into the car and Tosh is leaning over the centre console from her position in the back seat to lay on the horn until Ianto is forced to stop spluttering and get in. Gray is still smirking at him through the windscreen, tossing out his trademark salute and a wink as Ianto throws the car into reverse on autopilot and flips around to head down the drive, trying very hard to remember and forget all at once.

Because the thing is, he can’t help but feel completely embarrassed - his behaviour must have seemed so ridiculous, he’s sure, and he  _ never _ would have been brave enough to say those things sober. But he also can’t help but remember things like the broken sound of Jack’s voice when he’d ground down into his crotch, and the way Jack had held his hips and whispered about wanting to do this right, wanting to wait  _ for Ianto _ . So it’s a mixed bag of emotions, and he’s blushing at the thought of the conversation he’s bound to end up having later - full of teasing he expects - but he also can’t stop smiling, because he’s pretty sure last night means that he hasn’t been imagining all these changes, hasn’t been feeling all these new things alone. It’s a realisation that feels both freeing and terrifying but at least, maybe, they’re finally getting somewhere a bit more honest.

“Bloody finally,” Tosh mutters, as Ianto begins the drive, spreading herself out as best she can in the back seat and closing her eyes. Ianto knows she’s just talking about the fact that they are at last headed home, but he can’t help but feel like those words are distinctly apt.

\-----

They drop Tosh off at home first; she hugs them both and ruffles Ianto’s hair as she climbs out, and Ianto can’t find the will to complain as he’s still kind of caught up in thoughts about Jack even after the drive home filled with worrying and thrilling in alternate measures. Besides, he’s pretty sure his hair can’t look any worse than it already does.

Rhiannon falls back to sleep on the short drive from Tosh’s house to their own and gives Ianto a sleepy smile when they pull into the driveway and Ianto jostles her gently awake.

“Wicked party,” she mumbles, stumbling in an ungainly way up the drive and into the house, collapsing face-first onto the couch and falling back into sleep before Ianto can shut the front door. It’s probably a good thing Ifan and Glenda are visiting their grandparents again for the weekend, so Ianto doesn’t have to ferry Rhiannon up to her room and out of her tequila-stained clothing to keep from arousing suspicion.

Ianto plans on collapsing soon himself, if he can get his mind to quiet, that is, because a few more hours of sleep sounds like heaven right about now. However, when he detours to the kitchen to get a glass of water and a few more painkillers from the cupboard, all thoughts of sleep are quickly swept aside by the chiming of his phone indicating a new text.

**Jack** (12:31 pm):  _ Did my car make it back safely? _

Despite the flush of embarrassment that spreads automatically across his cheeks, because he can’t think of Jack without thinking about what he  _ said _ to Jack on that couch last night, Ianto smiles at the text - and the subtext underneath it.

**Ianto** (12:31 pm):  _ The car is fine, though it thanks you for your concern. _

**Jack** (12:32 pm):  _ As well it should, Mr. Sarcasm. It is my baby after all; it ought to be flattered that I care. _

Ianto’s skin tingles just a little at that, and he’s not a fan of being someone’s ‘babe’ or ‘baby,’ but somehow Jack, stupid, smug, smirky Jack, has maybe made him tolerate it.

**Ianto** (12:34 pm):  _ The car thinks YOU ought to be flattered it lets you drive it at all. _

**Jack** (12:35 pm):  _ Insert obligatory gear shift joke here. _

**Jack** (12:35 pm):  _ Seriously, tiger, you left yourself wide open with that one; there were too many possibilities for me to choose just one lewd joke. _

**Jack** (12:36 pm):  _ Insert ‘wide open’ joke here, too. ;) _

Ianto rolls his eyes at his phone but figures he really did walk into that one. Still, at least Jack isn’t teasing him about last night… yet. Thinking about the party does make him wonder though, how things turned out after they’d left and the rest of the Harknesses had shown up.

**Ianto** (12:38 pm):  _ How’d it go with your parents? Have they wised up and disowned you, yet? _

**Jack** (12:40 pm):  _ Nope, somehow they’re still foolish enough to want to call me son, even if they are pissed. The cleaning crew just arrived not too long ago so that put the yelling on hold for a while. I’m laying low to avoid the quiet wrath, which somehow always seems worse, you know? _

**Ianto** (12:41 pm):  _ I do know. Are they really that mad? Surely your parents can’t be all that surprised the two of you threw a party? Plus, I thought that Gray was taking the fall? _

**Jack** (12:45 pm):  _ Gray did take the fall. For the party. That’s not exactly why I’m hiding, though. _

**Ianto** (12:47 pm):  _ Seriously? What the hell did you manage to do in the little while since I left? _

He walks upstairs as he waits for Jack’s response, already building up to ‘delinquent’ jokes in his head in preparation for hearing Jack’s latest crime. He stumbles a little on the top step when it occurs to him that maybe Jack hadn’t been caught doing  _ something _ but  _ someone _ . What if not everyone had been gone when Ianto left? What if Jack had so desperately needed to get rid of the image of Ianto’s pathetic attempts at sexy that he’d hooked up with someone even knowing his parents were on the way home? That’s one thing Ianto knows for sure would get Jack into trouble these days, considering it’s the basis for the beginning of this whole summer.

Oh God, what if that’s why he’d stopped them last night? What if Ianto had just been making a fool of himself and keeping Jack from sleeping with all the people he  _ really _ wanted? The rational part of his mind, slowly shrinking as the minutes tick by and no reply comes, tells him he’s being ridiculous. That he may have been drunk, and he may have behaved a little bit more uninhibited than usual, but Jack hadn’t exactly been fighting him off all night. Still, as he sinks down onto his bed, he can’t help but worry about what he’s about to hear.

The phone rings once, startling him from contemplation. Jack’s name is flashing on screen, and Ianto picks up, hating that he sounds a little breathless but not really able to care.

“Hello?”

“Hey.” Jack’s voice sounds low and quiet like he’s whispering, but it is still warm and almost more intimate for the hushed tone.

“Hey,” Ianto repeats back, curling onto his side on the bed with the phone pressed to his ear and his heart thumping erratically. Somehow Jack’s tone has both soothed him as well as woken up all the butterflies that seem to perpetually live in the vicinity of his heart and stomach these days.

“So, I’m hiding behind the rose bushes along the garden wall, just so you know, and getting stuck with about a million thorns in order to have this conversation, so don’t say I never did anything for you,” Jack teases, and Ianto can hear the smile in his voice, knows Jack can hear an answering one in his own.

“My hero,” he says, with as much sarcasm as he can muster given the fact that  _ Jack Harkness is hiding in the fucking rose bushes for him. _

“Damn straight,” Jack laughs back.

“Not really straight at all actually; I’m surprised you’ve forgotten,” Ianto says, feeling way too pleased with himself when Jack laughs again, soft and as hushed as laughter can be, with the rustle of rose bushes in the background.

“So, are you wanting to tell me why you’re hiding out?” Ianto asks, when curiosity threatens to dip back into wild, unwanted imagining.

Jack sighs, “It’s nothing really; I’m just grounded for the week.”

“What?” Ianto asks, fear dropping slowly into his belly. The only thing, to his knowledge, that could get Jack grounded this summer was getting caught sleeping around.

“Yeah, it’s stupid, but I can’t say I didn’t know the risk when I did it, so I guess it’s my own damn fault.”

“What did you do, Jack?” Ianto asks, even though he’s not sure he wants to know.

Jack sighs again, like he really doesn’t want to have to say, and Ianto is about to throttle him if he doesn’t just spit it out soon.

“Jack!”

“Fine, jeez,” Jack huffs. “You know how I kinda picked you up in the Aston Martin the other night?”

“Yes?” Ianto says warily, picturing Jack fucking random party stragglers in his dream car now, because apparently, his own mind hates him too.

“Well, I, maybe, forgot to tell my dad I was going to do that. Or, you know, ask if it was okay in the first place.”

Ianto is stunned into silence for a minute, as all of his worries pop like soap bubbles under a child’s finger, and then he starts to laugh. Because Jack  _ would _ .

“It’s not funny,” Jack insists indignantly. “He’s already taken my computer, and he threatened to take the phone, too, which is why I’m hiding out here. Stop laughing, Ianto!”

“I can’t.” Ianto laughs. “I’ve been imagining all kinds of things you might have done, and it turns out you went with the tried and true ‘borrowed dad’s car without asking.’”

“Well, he wasn’t supposed to find out,” Jack grumps. “And considering I only did it to shut up your incessant whining about wanting to drive the thing, you should have some more sympathy for me.”

“Oh, you poor baby. How’d you get caught, anyway? Wait! You didn’t put any marks on it, did you, because Jack, I swear that car is worth-”

“Chill, tiger, the car is fine. Glad to see you care about it more than me.”

“Says the guy whose first text to me today asked if  _ his car _ made it home safe,” Ianto quips back, even though he knows that wasn’t what Jack had meant at all.

“That wasn’t what I…” Jack starts to say, then cuts himself off, changing the topic and starting again. “Anyway, I got caught because of the stupid mileage on the thing. Turns out he keeps track.”

“Have you learned nothing from Ferris Bueller?” Ianto sighs.

“Hey, I managed not to put the thing through a plate glass window at least, didn’t I?”

“Oh, well, congratulations on that, then,” Ianto agrees. “Bravo, really, Jack. Have you mentioned that to your dad? Because maybe if he hears about how at least you didn’t do  _ that _ , he’ll be happy to reduce your sentence.”

“Alright, smartass. See if I ever steal a car to impress you, again.”

And the thing is, Ianto was already pretty much knocked flat by the fact that Jack brought the car on Friday for him, but the fact that he took it, regardless of permission, just to make Ianto happy? Is actually kind of ridiculously sweet and weirdly hot, and though Ianto isn’t going to admit to exactly those things in so many words, he can’t just leave Jack hanging either. It’s not everyday someone steals their dad’s obscenely expensive luxury sports car just to make him smile after all.

“Fine. It  _ was _ impressive, and as much as I hate to admit it, also definitely as cool as something Ferris would do,” Ianto concedes, rolling his eyes when he can practically hear Jack grinning and preening down the line.

“That’s more like it,” Jack says smugly.

There are a few silent seconds between them, and though it feels more comfortable than anything, Ianto can’t help but start to think about last night as the quiet hangs between them. He feels his own building need to just talk about it already too, because as embarrassing as some of it is for him, at least he’ll be expecting the teasing unlike now where it feels like he’s been waiting for the other shoe to drop since that first text message.

“I am so sorry about last night,” he blurts, and the silence on the other end of the line suddenly feels tense.

“Oh?” Jack says coolly, but Ianto is so caught up in his own mortification that he can’t cipher out what’s caused the change in tone.

“Yeah, I can’t believe I said and did all those things; I know I was an idiot.”

Ianto swears he can hear Jack mutter something that sounds an awful lot like ‘ _ sounds like  _ I  _ was the idiot _ ,’ but he can’t be sure.

“It’s fine, Ianto; we can forget all about it, if that’s what you want,” Jack grits out, and he sounds  _ angry _ , which is just stupid, because Ianto knows he made a fool of himself, but he hadn’t thought it was  _ that _ bad.

“You don’t have to get snippy with me,” he says haughtily, even though his skin is hot with mortification.  _ God, had it been that bad? _ “I mean, I know I was practically throwing myself at you, and I must have looked ridiculous, and you’ve actually been uncharacteristically nice by not mocking me about it all yet, but still I didn’t realise it was so  _ awful _ for you that you’d-”

“Wait,” Jack interrupts. “Who said it was awful for  _ me _ ?”

“You did!” Ianto says, feeling more confused than ever. “Just now, you said you wanted to forget it ever happened.”

“No, I said I’d forget it ever happened if that’s what  _ you _ wanted.”

“Well, of course that’s what I want; I made a fool out of myself!” Ianto practically shouts, feeling his eyes burn because everything had been so lovely just a few minutes ago and now they’re arguing and he doesn’t even know why, except that it’s his fault for trying to be sexy for Jack when he was drunk out of his mind.

“You were trying to be sexy for me?”

Shit, he hadn’t meant to say that part.

“I don’t… I mean…. Um. Maybe?” Ianto says, cringing in anticipation of laughter.

“Wait, so then, why are you so upset?” Jack asks, sounding confused. “Is it because I stopped us, because, tiger, I really-”

“No,” Ianto says hurriedly. “I’m glad you did.”

“Because you don’t want to sleep with me.”

“Because I don’t want to have sex with you just because we’re both drunk and available.”

“And that’s what last night would have been to you?” Jack asks carefully.

“ _ No _ ,” Ianto insists, feeling like this conversation is slipping through his fingers. “God, you keep twisting everything.”

“You’re the one who’s saying all of it!” Jack hisses back, exasperation colouring his tone.

“Well, it’s not what I mean!”

“Then just say what you mean, tiger,” Jack finally says. He takes a deep breath on the other end of the line and sounds like he’s bracing for something.

“What I was  _ trying _ to say,” - Ianto huffs - “is that I’m sorry if I acted like an idiot last night and embarrassed you with my attempts to be sexy.”

“So you aren’t upset about the kissing and the rest of it?” Jack asks after a few seconds of silence that feel like an eternity to Ianto. “Or more specifically, about the kissing and the rest of it with  _ me _ ?”

“No,” Ianto admits reluctantly. “Should I be?”

“Jesus, you’re an idiot,” Jack laughs then, tension bleeding out of his tone though Ianto’s hackles still feel raised.

“Yes I know, thanks. That’s kind of my point,” he says sarcastically and hates that he can’t just hate Jack on principle anymore.

“No, not for trying to be sexy,” Jack corrects quickly, picking up on the anger in Ianto’s voice even when he can’t seem to hide the smile from his own. “For  _ worrying _ about it. Because believe me, tiger, that was not something you needed to worry over. All those things you said last night, all those things you did? Were really fucking sexy.”

“But… really?” Ianto asks, still not quite able to wrap his head around the fact that Jack isn’t going to tease him for his first foray into dirty talk.

“Are you kidding me? It was hot,” Jack insists.

“Oh,” Ianto says, not knowing how he’s expected to respond. “So I wasn’t just embarrassing myself all night long?”

“No, you really weren’t. And come on Ianto, if anyone has things to be embarrassed about, it’s the guy who spilled ice cold water on your dick and ruined your shirt with sweet chilli sauce on our date.”

There is a split second where Ianto processed what Jack just said, and then before he can think about it, he blurts again, “So it  _ was _ a date?”

Jack curses quiet and low on the other end, so soft Ianto almost doesn’t hear.

“Jack?”

“Yeah, um, if you wanted it to be,” he says finally, sounding more unsure than Ianto’s ever heard before and maybe just a little hopeful too. “If you wanted it to be a date, it, um, it could be.”

“What do  _ you _ want it to be?” Ianto asks, because Jack still sounds so hesitant and he is not about to try and talk Jack into something. Not when it feels this big.

“I don’t… what do  _ you _ want it to be?” Jack repeats back, and Ianto sighs heavily.

“I asked you first.”

“What are we, five?”

“You, maybe. But Jack, really, just tell me what it is you want.”

“Ianto…”

There is a note of pleading there, for Ianto to not make him answer that; maybe that is an answer all on its own. Ianto just doesn’t know for sure, and though he feels nearly certain that there is something here, he can’t be the one to force the issue, risk forcing something more than what is there, not on Jack, not again - the guy who uses the one-night stand as an example of a long-term relationship.

“Fuck, you’re going to make me say it, aren’t you?” Jack says resignedly, and Ianto bites his lip and waits, because this could still go either way. Though, he’s feeling rather hopeful that it might go one way in particular.

Whatever else Jack is thinking of saying is cut off by some more sudden, muffled cursing and then the sound of a phone being pressed against fabric, as if Jack’s held the phone against his chest. Ianto can hear quiet breathing and then the muted sound of conversation, before the static-y rub of cloth over the airwaves disappears and a familiar voice comes down the line, though not the one Ianto wants to hear at the moment.

“Jack will you at the gala on Friday, Ianto,” Franklin says, not unkindly. “Until then, he’s grounded as he’s no doubt told you, and that includes the use of his phone.” Ianto’s pretty sure he can hear a smile in the man’s voice despite his words, though he doesn’t seem inclined to give in to that good humour and lessen Jack’s sentence, or return his phone. “Say hi to your dad for me!” Franklin adds, and Ianto makes a noncommittal sound, something akin to choked off laughing, and then the line goes dead.

There is so much more he knows they were going to say, so much more that needs to be said, but in a way, this is better. Some things are worth waiting to hear in person, he’s pretty sure.

Suddenly, Friday can’t come fast enough.

\-----

Rhiannon is still sleeping when Ianto trudges back downstairs a few minutes later with a goofy smile on his face despite the aborted conversation, feeling light and little ridiculous and giddy at all the possibilities laid out before him. He’s thinking about making a late lunch versus ordering pizza as his stomach finally decides it feels more hungry than sick, when he sees the pile of mail on the table. Right on top, with unmistakable large bold letters splayed out over the return address, is an envelope from the letting agent in London.

Ianto sets the takeaway menu in his hands down on the counter, hunger forgotten, as he reaches out to touch the envelope as gingerly as if it might explode. It doesn’t, of course, but that doesn’t make it any less deadly. He’d nearly forgot, these past few weeks, so caught up in the changing tide of his emotions that he has hardly spared a thought to the reason he’s started this thing with Jack in the first place. Now, though, the knowledge settles heavy over him, his stomach twisting when he opens the envelope to find a bunch of stapled pieces of paper, a contract that he’s supposed to sign for the place in London in September. He doesn’t bother to read the whole thing, his eyes skimming over the covering letter, eyes drawn to the important part at the bottom, the part that says ‘deposit,’ ‘rent due upfront,’ and ‘monthly rent,’ right next to numbers that have so much power.

He fights the urge to sink down into one of the kitchen chairs, instead carries the envelope in numb fingers and walks to the stairs, up, down the hall and into his room. He shuts the door behind him quietly, not wanting to take even the slimmest of chances of waking Rhiannon right now. Measured steps to his desk, where he opens up the second drawer down and slides the envelope underneath some other paper clutter - not to try and forget it, there is no forgetting it now, but because he still needs to make sure his mum or his dad or Rhiannon doesn’t accidentally discover it. Not until he’s decided what to do.

He shucks his clothes then, pulls on fresh boxers over skin that still smells faintly of chlorine ( _ God, how has everything gone wrong in so little time, he hasn’t even had a chance to  _ shower), and then after a second’s pause, pulls Jack’s hoodie back on, too, the familiar smell making him ache. Only then does he finally, finally, crawl into bed, curling up under the covers with a headache fully formed again and absolutely no chance of sleep.

It’s still as staggering as it was when he first realised how much money he would need upfront to live in London, when he realised he wasn’t going to get the grades he needed for his university course, maybe more so because now it feels like more. It isn’t just a money amount any longer, even an impossibly large one. Now there is an emotional cost to it too. Because what started out as purely a business arrangement, is now so much more, and for the first time, Ianto is realising maybe  _ that _ is what he can’t afford.

He can’t take the money from Jack if they start dating for real.  _ Especially _ if they start sleeping together, and Ianto is even more grateful for the fact that Jack stopped that from happening last night. The emotional entanglement he’s managed to make for himself thus far is bad enough, but if it had turned more physical too, then that would have made him… what? A whore? That’s perhaps a tad dramatic, and he knows it, but at the very least, he would never have been able to accept the money after.

It’s not that it feels simple to accept it given how things are now either, but Ianto thinks there is still some leeway there. He won’t feel great about it, but if they stop things now - with just a few drunk kisses, one kind of date, and some unspoken feelings between them - if he can convince himself that’s all there is and makes sure that’s all there will ever be, he thinks he could still look himself in the mirror if he accepted the money at the end of the summer. It wouldn’t be perfect, but even if they’re friends, the money would be for the  _ fake dating _ part and not the friendship, and as long as he made sure Jack knew that, then it would be… okay. Not good, but doable.

None of this is ideal; it was easy to bet his future on this whole arrangement back when Jack was a pest and putting up with him was a chore that needed compensation to be worthwhile. Now that they no longer hate each other, it is harder, but Ianto thinks about how he would feel accepting money from, say, Tosh, for pretending to be her boyfriend all summer, and thinks that while he still wouldn’t love the idea, he’d be able to live with that. He’d be able to think of it like any other acting job, pretending to be something you’re not for a while and being compensated accordingly. And that’s what this could still be, with Jack, as long as Ianto doesn’t let things like feelings get in the way. As long as Ianto makes sure Jack never finishes that unspoken thing he’d been on the brink of saying. As long as they don’t cross that one, arbitrary yet oh-so-important line.

Nothing’s been said yet, between them, nothing that can’t be swept under the rug and forgotten, that can’t be unsaid. If he pulls back right now, ruthlessly cuts out attraction and a growing affection that feels frighteningly close to being more than just ‘like,’ if he does that then - he tries to convince himself - things can go back to as they were a few weeks ago, to Ianto playing a role in order to win Jack his summer freedom, and finance his own dream, with maybe some friendship along the way. Jack can go back to clubbing and hooking up ( _ and fuck, if that thought doesn’t hurt more than he’d expected _ ) and Ianto can smile and play the boyfriend and have money to hand over to the letting agent in London in September.

But if he doesn’t, if he lets this thing play out, if he doesn’t end the extra kissing and the growing feelings and tip them back from what is starting to feel like inevitable confessions… If he doesn’t do that, then there is no way in hell he can take Jack’s £5,000, which means there is no way to pay the letting agent in time. It was dire circumstances trying to figure out how to pay for it back in June, now that it’s the end of July, it is pretty much impossible that he’ll be able to find the money in time.

He thinks of the taste of Jack’s lips, of the way his heart feels just a little tight and butterflies erupt in his stomach when Jack looks at him in a certain way. He thinks of the way their hands fit together automatically and easily these days, thinks of tequila on salty skin and arms around him in dance class, of French food and kisses and ‘ _ I have to do this right. _ ’ And then he thinks of the way he will feel when he can finally get away from his father and to his dream city, and finding a way into getting onto his dream course, the way his thirst of knowledge of the past makes him so happy.

It’s a sign, he thinks, of how conflicted he’s feeling that he considers talking to his mum, just admitting it all and begging for Glenda to think of some way out, some way that he can have his cake and eat it too. But he’s heard his parents whispering in the kitchen at night during the week, about how the shop isn’t recovering as quickly as they’d like in this economy but his dad can’t stand the thought of cutting jobs and wages. There is no way he can put a financial burden on them.

And so it quite simply comes down to this. Jack or London. A boy or a dream.

For Ianto, that’s never really been a choice at all, and even though he hates himself a little for it, it isn’t really one now. He wasn’t going to put off London and getting away from his dad for his actual relationship with Lisa; he’s certainly not going to do it for a hypothetical relationship with Jack.

It hurts though, a surprising amount actually, considering that he and Jack haven’t even admitted to liking each other in actual  _ words _ yet. The loss of all that potential though, the loss of something Ianto was just learning to want, hurts badly. He sniffles just a little, fighting the burn of tears, and all that gets him is a whiff of Jack’s aftershave and the warm smell that is just  _ him _ from the fleecy cotton of the sweatshirt. Ianto chokes on an unexpected sob, swallows it down, and holds it in with burning lungs, because it is stupid to cry over this. Stupid to cry over Jack Harkness who is not even really his boyfriend, who probably only wants him because he’s a challenge, who has barely had time to become a friend. It is  _ stupid _ to feel this much over some stupid boy, but Ianto finds that despite his best efforts to convince himself of that, he’s crying anyway.

It’s a silent kind of crying, as he holds in as much as he can and begins the process of trying to lock everything away. It should be easy - it’s only been six weeks after all. He should be able to just chalk it all up to hormones and loneliness and suppress it. It isn’t the end of the world. It isn’t like he’s losing The One. Hell, maybe this way, he’ll actually be able to look forward to Lisa coming back again, can just weather out the changes for a few more weeks and then forget Jack even exists.

One wretched sob escapes his lips at that, before he presses his lips together tightly and cries until, mercifully, he falls asleep.

\-----

The next few days are a lesson in ruthlessness, and Ianto tries to root out and squash every tendril of that  _ more _ that he feels for Jack. The universe doesn’t make it easy for him.

It starts on Monday.

Ianto wakes up from a particularly intense dream, wispy memories of kissing over tanned skin, of staring into bright blue eyes as he sinks into the body below him. It’s not the first time he’s had a sex dream, and not - he has to grudgingly admit - even the first time that Jack has played a feature role is such a dream. But it is the first time that he wakes up not just hard and aching for release, but with his heart pounding and his arms missing holding someone they’ve only learned the feel of recently. He turns the shower on cold, refusing to wank to the lingering images floating in the subspace of his brain, and wishes he could will away his feelings as effectively as the icy sting of the shower spray deals with his erection.

He’s managed to turn his mind to other thoughts, having spent the last ten minutes of his, now warm, shower belting out his favourite Adam Lambert songs and reminding himself that heartache will fade with time.

He’s still singing as he goes back into his room to fuss with his hair, and he’s starting to think about all the things he can fill his week with to distract himself from thoughts of Jack. However, his voice dies out in the middle of  _ Whataya Want From Me _ when a new text message buzzes on his phone. There is no reason to think it’ll be from Jack, except for the double skip his heart gives.

He sinks down onto the bed, still just wrapped in his towel, already sure before he opens it. He’s startled for just a second to see it’s from Gray, but that’s quickly explained when he reads it.

**Gray** (10:00 am):  _ Hey, it’s Jack. I stole Gray’s phone, mine’s still confiscated, and am texting from under the breakfast table while my dad talks about physics with Jodie. Am I a ninja, or what? _

He considers ignoring it but can’t bring himself to do that. Because he’s trying to find a way to just cut out the part of him that’s falling for Jack, not the part that is Jack’s friend.

**Ianto** (10:01 am):  _ Hmmm, not so sure about that. Let me see you use sai swords, and maybe I’ll reconsider. _

**Gray** (10:01 am):  _ That’s… seriously? Don’t tell me you have some hidden sword talent, because that would be both terrifying and hot. _

**Ianto** (10:02 am):  _ Mmmm, wouldn’t you like to know? And I think I rather like the idea of being both terrifying and hot. _

**Gray** (10:05 am):  _ Sorry, got distracted by the thought ;) Now I have to know! What do you say you and your secret ninja skills drive to mine tonight, and I’ll sneak out and meet you? I’d come to you, but there’s no way I can get one of the cars out of the drive without someone noticing. _

That gives Ianto pause, because he’s already breaking his newly-established boundary between friends and more by flirting with Jack through texts, but if he  _ sees _ Jack? He’s just not ready for that, not with memories of Saturday night and flashes of his dream still lurking at the edges of his mind. He needs time to rebuild the walls around his heart, before he sees Jack in person.

And so, though he hates himself a little, he makes an excuse.

**Ianto** (10:07 am):  _ Would that I could, my delinquent, but I promised to stick around for family dinner tonight. _

**Gray** (10:09 am):  _ Ah well, another time, then, tiger. _

Jack doesn’t text again, and Ianto assumes Gray must have discovered the theft of his phone. He feels miserable and guilty for the rest of the day and eventually has to delete their last text conversation so that he doesn’t end up staring at that  _ tiger _ until he feels like crying again.

Tuesday isn’t much better, even though Jack doesn’t actually get in contact with him.

Ianto is browsing Facebook randomly, trying to lose himself in catching up on what’s been happening in his friends’ lives this summer. He’d avoided the site for nearly two weeks after Lisa left until Gwen told him that Lisa wasn’t posting, and in fact, her last update on her wall was a message saying she was avoiding Facebook for the summer, but she’d catch up with everyone when she returned to the country.

So the danger of seeing updates about Lisa’s life in New York isn’t there, but Ianto still doesn’t log on that often anymore, the temptation to go through old photo albums of he and Lisa is still too great. But he isn’t friends with Jack on Facebook, and so it seems like as good a way to avoid thinking about  _ that _ boy as any. Besides, maybe if he goes through those old albums, he’ll start bringing all those unresolved Lisa feelings to the surface and maybe that older hurt will help him forget this one.

He’s just ‘liked’ a post from Gwen about a date with Rhys when he sees a notification that Tosh has tagged him in three new photos. He clicks through quickly, really hoping they aren’t pictures of him doing something embarrassing again because he had threatened to kill Tosh for that  _ last _ time and damned if he won’t follow through on it.

It’s not pictures of him being embarrassing. In fact, two of them aren’t even really pictures of him. Instead he finds himself looking at photos from the party the other night that happen to have caught him in the background. After a quick perusal through the rest of the album to make sure there aren’t any truly incriminating shots of him (luckily not, considering what he remembers getting up to) and then cycles back to the first one with him in it.

It must have been taken some time while he and Jack were mixing drinks because he is sitting on the counter, legs swinging and a red plastic cup in his hand, laughing at something Jack is saying. Jack himself is leaning forward, just enough in Ianto’s personal space to imply a closeness that certainly wouldn’t have been there a few months ago but not so close that you’d know they were boyfriends. His face is out of focus slightly (the picture is actually of two bikini-clad girls in the foreground) but he is smiling too, face tilted and eyebrow raised. Ianto wishes he could remember what they were discussing at that exact moment, because they look so fucking happy.

Before he can get sucked into staring at the way Jack’s arms look ridiculously good in the shirt he’s wearing in the photo, he clicks forward to the next.

The one is of the pool, and there are a lot more people in the shot so it takes him a moment to find himself. It’s him and Jack again, Jack just barely visible in the corner of the frame. He’s back into the corner of the pool, just left of the focus of the photo which is of some guy going a backflip into the water. The flipping boy’s body separates Jack’s frozen image from Ianto’s, but somehow they still manage to look connected. Maybe it’s the way they are clearly staring at each other as Ianto advances through the water towards Jack, and Ianto has to swallow hard because he’d thought the eye contact had only felt that intense because he was drunk, but even in a crappy photo, he can feel that connection jumping off the page. Shit.

The third picture actually has just him in the focus, Jack nowhere in sight, but is perhaps the worst of the three. Because it’s of Ianto, framed by the dying summer sunlight in near violent oranges and pinks, standing on the deck right before he’d marched down to the poolside and cut in line for body shots. He knows, because he’d only been on the back deck once all evening. Plus he’s been at the Harkness house enough now to know its layout, and from where he’s standing there is only one thing he could be looking at, the only thing that caught his eye practically all night. Jack.

The expression on his face is one he’s never seen in any kind of photo before - fierce determination, underlying nerves, and a light in his eyes of mischief. 

He shuts down Facebook then and spends the rest of the afternoon rereading his favourite history book for the hundredth time instead.

Wednesday is perhaps the worst of all days. It is certainly the hardest, so to speak.

He still hasn’t heard from Jack since their aborted conversation Monday morning, but considering Jack is grounded, he can’t tell what that might or might not mean. The one thing that is abundantly clear is that he  _ misses _ Jack, more than he ought to, he’s pretty sure, and that doesn’t body too well for this whole ‘moving on’ business.

Knowing that doesn’t mean he can stop his heart from beating a little faster when he gets another text from Gray’s phone, or that he can keep it from sinking when he realises it is  _ actually _ from Gray.

**Gray** (3:33 pm):  _ A little something for your viewing pleasure, sweetheart ;) _

There is a link to a video file and Ianto clicks it warily, suddenly very much afraid that Gray has texted him porn. While his phone’s video player loads, he gets up and closes his bedroom door fully. He’d been in the middle of changing, his current shirt off after Rhiannon spit out a mouthful of coke all over him when she’d laughed at an ill-timed joke on the television, so Ianto finds himself sitting shirtless on his bed as the video begins and really hopes it isn’t porn because then he’s just going to feel creepy. Seconds later, the scratchy sound and grainy look of poorly shot phone camera footage appears and it is worse, so much worse, than porn.

It is filmed at an angle, catching him in profile, as he’s sat in Jack’s lap and grinding down. It is the end of Truth or Dare.

The phone isn’t picking up any words yet, but he flushes bright red when it  _ clearly _ picks up the sound of his moan,  _ oh God _ , followed by an increased tempo to the roll of his hips on-screen as a twin moan comes from Jack’s mouth. He wants to turn it off, to throw his phone across the room and try desperately to pretend the video doesn’t exist, but more than the twist of embarrassment in his stomach at the images before him is a strong curl of desire, and to his horror, Ianto finds himself getting a little hard as he continues to stare at the screen.

Video-Ianto throws his head back; his hair is messy, and he’s sucking at his own bottom lip, eyelashes fanning dark over his cheeks as his eyes flutter shut, all clearly visible even in the crappy footage. Jack’s hands are sliding up his thighs and around to his back, raking long fingers up his spine and around his shoulder to tug his mouth back down into another kiss. They look  _ amazing _ together, which is something Ianto had never thought he’d say about seeing himself dry-humping someone on film, but it’s true. There is a connection there, a mutual, desperate need about them, palpable even through the medium of the recording, and Ianto can’t tear his eyes away.

He can hear the sounds of them shifting against each other, watches in fascination as their hips work in tandem, Jack’s thrusting near frantically as his own hips circle and press back against the boy against him. Jack looks gorgeous, cheeks red with desire, a flush that’s spread down over his bare chest, and Ianto is brushing fingers against the image before he realises, as if he might feel the heat of Jack’s skin through the screen.

When video-Jack gets one hand around video-Ianto’s waist and the other in his hair, another moan reverberating between them, Ianto in his bedroom realises he’s started to rub his palm over what is now a full-blown erection and pulls his hand away quickly as if it has been burned.

On screen, he can hear Gray speaking now, tone teasing, but Ianto isn’t paying attention to the words, he’s too hyper aware of his very current problem. He taps out of the player quickly, tossing the phone onto his bed beside him and glad that he hadn’t started watching anywhere besides the privacy of his room. His dick is still hard, pressed tightly against the fabric of his skinny jeans, and if Ianto shimmies out of them, it’s just because it kind of hurt  _ not _ to, not because he’s planning to jerk off to thoughts of the boy he’s supposed to be pushing firmly into the ‘friend’ category. And if his hand slips into his boxer briefs, it’s just to make sure the constricting fabric hadn’t done any lasting damage before he got the jeans off. Really.

When he starts to stroke himself, slowly at first but with an increasing tempo as precome slicks over his skin, smoothing the way, and visions of Jack arching up underneath him speeding his hand, he can’t pretend anymore that this is anything other than what is it. And the smart thing would probably be to get in a cold shower or think about something unsexy or do just about anything besides give into his body’s want, because this is not helping him with forgetting that Jack has a near-visceral hold on him by now.

Apparently it is a day to give into bad ideas though, because he doesn’t stop. Instead he brings to mind the grainy footage, the way Jack’s body had looked arching up into his. The visual is good as it is, and the sounds he had heard them making even better, but what is best of all, is that he doesn’t have to imagine how it felt because he was  _ there _ . He knows what Jack’s hands felt like squeezing at his thighs and hips, and it is easy then to imagine what those long fingers would feel like wrapping around where he is hard and aching. He imagines that it is Jack’s hand, fisting tight and quick over his cock, and groans as his hips buck up off the mattress in approval of that imagery.

He knows what Jack’s mouth tastes like too, how those lips feel pressing and sucking over his skin, how that talented tongue feels licking into his mouth and over his neck. Ianto lets his free hand come up to rub across his collarbone, imagining Jack’s mouth following its path. His fingers dance lower as the fantasy becomes more vivid, pictures Jack’s lips placing hot, open-mouthed kisses across his chest. He tweaks a nipple, and another moan is torn from him at the thought of Jack’s teeth, always nipping at his lips and skin, biting gently there instead.

In his mind, Jack kisses down over his stomach, licking a line along the waistband of his boxers, Ianto’s fingers teasing along the soft skin of his belly. When he can’t stand it anymore, he slips them into his underwear, and the imagery of Jack’s hand around his cock is briefly replaced by thoughts of Jack’s sinful, perfect mouth there instead - but that is almost too much and Ianto isn’t quite ready to come yet. If he’s going to make awful decisions and wank off to people he’s just promised himself were off-limits, then damn it, he’s going to  _ enjoy it _ .

Instead, he spreads his legs enough to let his fingers tease down over his balls and further back, a dry pressure against his hole as his hand continues to run over his cock in frantic jerks. All lingering thoughts of categories and walls and boundaries disappear as his orgasm builds, and he wrenches his hand back out and sucks sloppily over the digits, quickly wetting them, before shoving them back down and circling his hole again, everything now slick and wet.

He lets himself remember those whispered words then, remembers asking Jack to lick him  _ here _ , something he’d never dared mention to anyone or even hint at, and lets the fantasy replace his wet fingers with Jack’s slicker tongue, licking over him and into him as he fucks up into the tight channel of his fist. In the end, what pushes him over the edge is the memory of Jack’s eyes, hot and wanting at Ianto’s words - looking at him like he was the sexiest thing Jack had ever seen. The image of that burning blue gaze, wide and dark, has him coming hard and hot over his hand and stomach.

He lies there panting for long minutes, totally blissed out and mind mercifully fuzzy and unconcerned. As his come starts to cool on his skin though, turning tacky and gross, the truth of his situation seeps back in, and any post orgasmic high he’d had disappears, sending him crashing back into reality. A reality where he’s just wanked off to thoughts of Jack, Jack whom he’d been begging to fuck him, just days ago, Jack whose kisses are more intoxicating than all the drinks he had Saturday night, Jack who he absolutely can’t have, not without giving up  _ everything _ .

He cleans up with a handful of tissues and manages to text Gray, threatening life and limb if that video gets on the internet, before he crawls back into bed and gives up on the rest of the day.

Thursday, he wakes up to a new text that makes him feel even worse.

**Unknown** (8:34 am):  _ Hey tiger, stole River’s phone this time. Somehow Gray’s phone seems to have been *accidentally* broken, destroying his copy of a certain video he was kind enough to tell me he sent you yesterday in the process. What are the odds? _

Ianto laughs a little despite himself and saves the number as River in his phone, still trying to think of a response that won’t give away just how affected he’d been by the video when another text chimes in.

**River** (8:37 am):  _ This is River. If you promise to NEVER tell me what was in that video, I won’t tell Mum and Dad that Jack stole my phone to text you. _

**River** (8:42 am):  _ Oh, and he wants to make sure you’re coming tomorrow. Seriously, you better not ditch, because he’s been pouting all week for lack of Ianto-time. I’m going to have to kill him just to put all of us out of the misery of it if you don’t show. _

Ianto smiles, and his heart gives a little pleased throb before he remembers he’s not supposed to feel that way anymore. He’s not allowed to care if Jack misses him, not now that he’s chosen London. He’s supposed to getting over this stupid…  _ thing _ between them. Anyway, River’s probably exaggerating, right? That’s what Ianto tells himself as he texts out a response, though he can’t think of a good enough lie to explain why he can’t resist saying something that only Jack will really understand.

**Ianto** (8:44 am):  _ Tell him I’ll be there with makeup on. _

**River** (8:45 am):  _ And now he’s grinning like an idiot. You two are sickeningly sweet, you know that, right? <3 _

Ianto’s stomach sinks. How on Earth is he supposed to do this? How is he supposed to walk away, now?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, you may have realised that i have now added a chapter count to this. after speaking with my amazing beta princessoftheworlds, i have decided to split it into two fics that, in my head, i have labelled 'miscommunication' and 'communication'. also, because i didn't want to end up abandoning this fic if i lose the muse, like i do with most of my fics. i had loads of notes on how to do the first half, but i'm still figuring out where to go with it during the second half, so i will end up probably not posting fic number 2 until i have that complete.
> 
> anyway, this was a huge ass emotional rollercoaster, and i hope you enjoyed!


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the day of the Gala and Ianto has to talk to Jack about their fake relationship. A surprise blast from the past turns up.

It’s Friday, and Ianto thinks sadly of how just six days ago he had actually been looking forward to this event, had been thinking - for a few blissfully ignorant minutes - that it might be when things finally started to come together, when he and Jack finally started to come together. Instead, all he feels is a low churn of guilt and nerves in his stomach, because it’s one thing to avoid having this conversation all week while he tries to work out his feelings, but there is no way he can get through tonight without letting Jack know where they stand - where they  _ have _ to stand. He hates that it feels like he’s breaking his own heart, but he’s been over this time and again and the thought of giving up London makes him feel miserable too, so he can’t change his mind now.

The vintage tux - found in some charity shop in the city that he popped into one day - that he tailored himself is hanging pressed and ready in a garment bag, but Ianto feels none of his usual joy at dressing up in a suit - not even one that will make him look very  _ James Bond _ . He can’t afford to wonder what Jack might think of the suit, can’t allow himself to think of it as dressing to impress, because Jack can’t be someone he wants to look good for anymore. Not if he’s going to survive this.

Still, objectively, he knows he looks amazing and if he spends a few extra minutes fixing his hair and applying a little makeup, it doesn’t have to be about looking good for anyone but himself, right?

Ianto thinks he’s getting remarkably good at lying to himself this summer.

His parents are out for the weekend again - he should probably be really worried about his grandparents, really - who likely won’t be back until Sunday morning at the earliest, and for a moment, he wishes they were here to fawn over him and take pictures like he was going to some school dance. He misses his mum these days; between her working and visiting his family, and Ianto more often than not off with Jack, they rarely see each other. Whenever he’s felt like everything is slipping through his fingers, Ianto has always craved his mother’s presence.

Instead he gets what is becoming the new normal, aka Rhiannon and either Johnny or Tosh on the couch playing video games. He knows they are all trying to suck up as much time with familiar friends as possible before summer ends and they all go to different parts of the country, so Ianto doesn’t really mind that his house has turned into the centre bubble of chaos. Besides, Tosh lets out a low whistle when Ianto walks down the stairs to head out to the gala, so he can’t be too mad.

“Damn Ianto,” is all she says, Johnny nodding along with a mouth full of chips, Rhiannon staring with a small smile on her face, and Ianto’s traitorous brain hopes Jack will share the sentiment, before he manages to stomp that hope down.

“Don’t wait up,” Ianto tells them as he heads out the door. “I have no idea how late these things run.”

“Why don’t you just crash with Jack tonight, then?” Rhiannon calls out after him. “Dad won’t be back, so it’s not like he’ll know.”

“Yeah, get it, Ianto!” Tosh adds, smiling cheekily at him. “There’s no way Jack is going to be able to keep his hands off you when you look that hot!”

Both Ianto and Rhiannon turn to look at Tosh, Ianto with an eyebrow raised in question and Rhiannon looking vaguely wary. Tosh seems to realise what she’s said in the next moment because she blushes and shrugs which causes both Jones siblings to roll their eyes.

“As, ah,  _ flattering _ as that is Tosh, I’ll be back tonight, even if it’s late, so leave the outside light on, okay?”

“Sure, Ianto, if you’re sure,” Rhiannon agrees, looking confused as to why Ianto might give up the chance for a sleepover. Ianto isn’t sure how to explain that he’s just hoping to come out of this evening with Jack still talking to him; he isn’t counting on them being on good enough terms to  _ share a bed _ . Not after all the new boundaries and rules Ianto is planning to lay out.

_ London _ , he thinks as he climbs into the Rover and smoothly backs out of the drive.  _ You’re doing this for London _ .

He hopes it’s worth it.

\-----

The  _ Vale _ resort exterior is all outlined in white lights, with tall ornate topiaries lining the last hundred yards of the drive. There’s only valet parking tonight, for the event, and Ianto feels so strange stepping out of the car and handing over his keys, aware that in most circumstances he has more in common with the man now driving away in the car than he does with the people he’s about to go inside and mingle with. It’s a sign of how unhappy he’s feeling that he doesn’t get lost in the magic and glamour of upper class life and instead kind of wishes he was just here to park the cars instead.

He’s building his speech in his head, the one he’s been practicing all day that starts with him telling Jack that they need to talk, and hopefully ends with Jack agreeing that whatever it is that’s sprung up between them, it would be silly to let it continue. Ianto only wishes he believed half the lies he’s about to say.

There are doormen at the entranceway, and one of them nods to him and touches his cap as he swings open the large door to allow Ianto inside. The lobby is also covered in twinkle lights, along with large bouquets of flowers and wait staff in crisp uniforms carrying trays of appetizers and champagne flutes. The room is about half full of people dressed elegantly, all circulating here before slowly making their way into the ballroom - which Ianto can see through another thrown-wide set of double doors off to the side. He takes a deep breath and pastes on a bland and charming smile, ready to work his way through the crowd of people to find Jack.

Before he can take his first step, his search is already at an end as the group in front of him disperses and he gets his first clear view across the large lobby. There, leaning casually against the far wall with a devilish smirk on his face as he laughs at something River is saying, is Jack.

He’s responding to River now, talking with his hands and still smirking, the muscles in his arms shifting under the perfect black of his tux blazer as he gestures wildly. River laughs in return as he finishes his story, and he’s grinning smugly as he tilts back into the wall, crossing one leg over the other at the ankle which just draws Ianto’s eyes down the glorious length of him. Jack was  _ born _ to wear formalwear apparently, because each time Ianto sees him dressed up, he looks better than the last, the formal cut of the tux suiting him to a tee.

He is heartbreakingly gorgeous, and Ianto tries to keep in mind all the words of his ‘ _ we can’t _ ’ speech because he’s losing the thread of it, seeing Jack in the flesh.

And then Jack turns, just a little, and catches sight of Ianto across the room.

His face lights up, expression open and bright as he turns to River and says something quickly while pointing Ianto’s way, making his excuses apparently, because in the next second he’s pushed off the wall and is striding in quick steps across the room to Ianto. With each step closer, Jack’s grin widens, and Ianto can see the warmth in the blue of his eyes, the cute little bounce in his step, the honest affection and happiness in his smile from the other side of the room, and it’s all for  _ him _ .

And in that instant, Ianto knows that a hundred speeches will never be enough. Nothing will ever be enough to stop this thing between them, because there is no brink to pull back from. He’s already tumbled off the edge, and now, it’s just a matter of hoping he survives the fall.

Jack finally draws to a halt in front of him, smile still huge but somewhat nervous too, and he rocks forward slightly as if he’s thinking about kissing Ianto but at the last second falls back onto his heels instead. One hand gets shoved deep into his pocket, and the other comes up to rub at the back of his neck as he smiles again, a little sheepishly.

“Hey,” he says, another giddy little grin flashing over his lips before he can stop it. “You’re here.”

“I’m here,” Ianto breathes back. He realises he’s never meant those words more. He’s going to have to figure out another plan to pay for London because he’s  _ here _ , and he can’t imagine in this moment a place he’d rather be.

Jack looks like he might be about to say something more, but the rest of the Harkness clan comes to join them then, to move as a group toward the ballroom where music has just started to play. Ianto knows they are going to need to talk soon, about everything unsaid the other day, about the deal, about a lot of things, but right now, he’s okay with a short reprieve to catch his breath.

It is easy to get caught up in the energetic friendliness the Harkness clan seems to carry with them wherever they go, to accept a hug from River, a shoulder squeeze from Jodie, and a wink from Gray. To kiss Elizabeth on both cheeks in greeting and shake hands with Franklin, and then to slip that hand down to hold Jack’s, fitting their fingers together easily and letting that connection ground him in the moment.

They all take flutes of champagne from a passing waiter, though Ianto only takes a tiny sip of his and notices that Jack’s not drinking from his own glass at all. He wonders if it’s for the same reasons that he’s abstaining, wonders if, like him, Jack wants to be completely clear-headed tonight, so that no matter what is said between them, they can’t use anything as an excuse to hide behind later. Regardless of the reason, Ianto doesn’t fight it when Jack takes his nearly full glass and sets it, along with his own, on another passing tray before holding out a hand to Ianto and saying, with just a hint of a challenge in his voice even though the words are formal, “May I have this dance?”

“You weren’t kidding about wanting to show off, were you?” Ianto asks, catching the pointed, cocky look Jack throws at Gray over his shoulder who just watches them with amusement and not a little bit of disbelief as Jack pulls Ianto out into the middle of the floor. River shouts dibs on a future dance with her little brother, as long as Ianto survives the first one.

“Nope,” Jack agrees, pulling Ianto into the proper dance form. “So, don’t screw this up, yeah?”

“Oh, like  _ I’m _ the one who’s most likely to do that,” Ianto gripes, but he’s smiling too and when Jack starts to lead them, only a little off, Ianto just goes with it, even the stumbles.

They are getting quite a few looks as they spin around the floor, and Ianto is reminded of the fact that originally they weren’t allowed to take classes together. He can’t help but turn a smug glare on every person who looks at them with shock written clear on their faces. Jack laughs quietly when after a few pointed glares, Ianto actually sticks his tongue out at a particularly stuck-up looking woman who is sneering their way.

“Cute,” Jack teases him. “And a very convincing argument for you not being five years old.” Jack laughs when Ianto sticks his tongue out at him too, though he keeps looking at Ianto’s mouth even after Ianto pulls his tongue back in, and his eyes get a little darker when Ianto bites at his lip under the scrutiny. They miss a few steps until Jack gets his concentration back, but Ianto hardly notices because he’s too busy staring right back and thinking about biting at Jack’s lip instead.

Oh yes, it is much, much too late to back out now.

Still, when Jack finds his footing again and makes up for their trip-up with a well-executed inside turn, it brings Ianto back into the moment and away from thoughts of just how many unattended dark corners there might be in the resort right now, that he could drag Jack into by his tie. This, he thinks as he giggles his way through a not-so-well-executed dip in which Jack almost drops him, is maybe one of the signs that it isn’t just about attraction for him, that his feelings run deeper. Because it’s also, maybe more than anything else, about the fact that Jack has somehow become the one who makes him smile, even when there doesn’t seem to be all that much reason to.

“I hope Gray missed that last little bit of raw talent, or he’s never going to believe you’ve improved,” Ianto muses when the music stops and they are making their way towards the edges of the room, laughing again when Jack threatens to  _ actually _ drop him next time.

As if his name has conjured him, Gray is suddenly there, standing next to them with an empty champagne glass dangling from his fingers and a pained smile tight across his lips. They immediately drop their arms from each other, both reaching out to him and already talking over each other trying to figure out what’s wrong.

“Ricky’s here,” he says, and that shuts them both up. “Ricky fucking Hallett just danced by with some blonde.”

Jack’s eyes narrow and he’s already scanning the room, unconsciously shifting his body in front of Gray as if to shield him. Ianto would be more touched by the brotherly show of protection, but the name has him looking around the room as well, suddenly wondering if Lisa is about to emerge from the shadows too.

Ianto can’t even see Ricky yet, though he thinks he maybe spots Mrs. Hallett talking with the woman he’d stuck his tongue at across the way. He speaks without thinking, because his mind is too caught up in fear of an unexpected run-in with his ex, now of all times, to really think about the way his words might sound. “Is Lisa here, too?”

Gray doesn’t even seem to hear him, though Jack looks back sharply. Realising how it probably sounded, Ianto automatically reaches out to touch the back of Jack’s hand in reassurance even though his eyes are still sweeping over the room for a familiar figure. In truth, he’s not sure how much reassurance he has to give, because while he certainly isn’t looking for Lisa in order to have some tearful reunion, he also can’t deny the panicked kick in his heart at the thought of having to see Lisa again before he’s ready. He only hopes Jack can understand that this isn’t about them, but about Ianto and all the unresolved emotions still tied up in the heartbreak Lisa caused him. Jack turns his hand under Ianto’s touch, catching up his fingers and squeezing tightly, though in understanding or possessiveness Ianto can’t tell - from the touch or from the carefully-guarded expression on Jack’s face as he seems to search the room for enemies on all sides.

“Fuck this, I need a fag,” Gray says into the silence, and when Ianto follows his gaze, he gets his first look at Ricky Hallett since he last saw him at graduation. He still looks gorgeous, decked out in a perfectly-tailored tux complete with tails. He’s got his arm around the waist of a pretty girl and he’s smiling at something she’s whispering in his ear. When Ianto turns back to Gray, he finds himself looking at that same lost, broken boy he saw in his living room when Gray just happened upon the pictures of Ricky on the Jones walls. As he watches, Gray tears his gaze away and shoots Ianto a self-deprecating smile, shrugging in a ‘what can you do?’ kind of motion like he isn’t so obviously hurting and then he’s walking away without another word, heading for the doors.

“I can’t believe that guy just showed up here,” Jack hisses when Gray’s out of sight once more, glaring daggers at an oblivious Ricky across the room.

“Jack,” Ianto says as soothingly as he can. “It’s not like he knew Gray was going to be here.”

“That’s no excuse!” Jack insists. “If he was stupid enough to break someone’s heart, he should have the decency to just stay the fuck away from them after!”

“It’s been eight years, Cap,” Ianto says, trying to calm the anger building in the other boy, but Jack is having none of it.

“Stop fucking defending him,” he snaps.

“I’m not defending him,” Ianto returns, with just as much heat. “I’m just saying that people make mistakes, that doesn’t mean they should have to pay for them for the rest of their lives. You of all people ought to understand that.”

“And it figures  _ you _ of all people would find a way to excuse a Hallett for their asshole behaviour,” Jack sneers, turning away but not before Ianto catches the insecurity and hurt in his eyes.

Oh. So this is not just about Gray and Ricky then.

Ianto sighs, because he really had hoped to at least enjoy the rest of the evening once he’d realised he was in this thing, given that there are more hard discussions to come between them, but he can’t begrudge Jack his fear. Because he can understand it, the worry about Lisa swooping back in, it all going back to being  _ LisaandIanto _ . It’s not that it is an unfair worry either, and though Ianto’s not planning on starting something with Jack just to drop him when Lisa returns, he’s also not going to lie to himself  _ or _ Jack and pretend that he’s completely dropped Lisa from his heart. But he needs Jack to know that he isn’t just biding his time; he needs Jack to know that he’s still  _ here _ .

“Dance with me,” he says, reaching for the hand Jack had pulled away and tugging at the locked tight fingers until they unfurl and let him slip his own between.

Jack looks like he’s going to protest, but Ianto gives him wide, blue eyes that have won him many arguments in his lifetime and Jack relents.

“That’s playing dirty,” Jack mutters, allowing himself to be pulled back out onto the dance floor, but he’s got a fond smile hiding in the corners of his mouth, peeking out further when Ianto just grins.

Jack holds his arms up in position, but Ianto ignores them this time because this isn’t about showing off or lessons or form; it’s about convincing Jack or Ianto’s recent epiphany that there is nowhere he’d rather be than right here. So he ignores dance postures entirely, lifting one hand into Jack’s waiting one and then stepping in close, his other arm around Jack’s waist and their chests near to touching. Jack looks startled for a moment before he visibly melts, lingering tension washing out of him as he wraps his free arm low around Ianto’s waist in return, pulling him in until their chests touch. He lets out a quiet little sigh, as he pulls their clasped hands to rest against his chest to the left of his heart, tilting his head to rest his cheek against Ianto’s own, and they sway together as a familiar song starts up.

Ed Sheeran’s voice croons out from the speakers hidden all along the ballroom ceiling about giving him love, and Ianto’s heart settles into a beat that matches Jack’s, thrumming steady under their clasped hands. He lets go of all his worries about running into Lisa, lets go of the last of his fears about London and his future, and gives into the overwhelming rush of this fragile new thing that he wants so, so badly.

Jack smells good this close too, familiar. His aftershave is that same warm spice that suits him so well, yet subtle enough that it doesn’t overpower the equally appealing scent of his bare skin. Ianto barely resists the urge to nose along Jack’s collar, seeking out the traces of that smell along his neck and jawline, but as lost as he can feel in this boy sometimes, he still remembers that they are in the middle of a homophobic audience and their dancing may be being tolerated so far but he’s not so sure nuzzling will receive the same blind eye.

He does resolve, however, to make Jack help him out with #88 on his bucket list, ‘ _ Find the right combination of aftershaves to match my unique body chemistry _ ’ because obviously Jack’s got that science all figured out. Plus, he  _ was _ rather helpful with #47 (and Ianto has to stop that thought right then and there, because he’s starting to think about dark corners again, or maybe the backseat of the Rover…)

Instead, he concentrates on how good just this feels, holding Jack close and moving slowly. Jack’s arm is strong around him, his body solid and real against him, and Ianto sighs contentedly. Absently, he begins lightly nose at the skin behind Jack’s ear, smiling to himself when he feels Jack’s hand tighten around his own and a little shiver runs through the skin under his nose at the motion. He wants to nose over more skin, wants to see if he can pull those fine tremors out of Jack on his stomach, his thighs, his lips. And it isn’t just sexual, in fact, right now, it’s so much more than that. It’s about the connection, about knowing that his touch elicits this response and that Jack isn’t any more immune to Ianto than Ianto is to him.

Jack proves the point a moment later, when he whispers so quietly Ianto isn’t sure he’s meant to hear, “I missed you this week.”

Ianto stills, and his breath catches, because he’s missed Jack too, so much, despite all his best efforts not to. “Me too,” he admits quietly. He can feel Jack relax at the returned sentiment, as if he hadn’t expected Ianto to feel the same way.

“I always end up missing you,” Jack continues, emboldened by Ianto’s words. “Even when I don’t mean to.”

Ianto pulls back then, just enough to see Jack’s face. Jack lets him, though he keeps the arm around Ianto’s waist pressed close. He’s staring at Ianto with the most heartrending vulnerability on his face, like he’s fully expecting at any moment for Ianto to walk away, but he just can’t stop himself from saying this any longer.

“ _ Fuck _ , Ianto, it’s like you’re under my skin,” he says, words cracking a little in their intensity. “Do you know how long I’ve tried to ignore it, to push it away?”

It’s a hypothetical question, Ianto knows, so he doesn’t bother answering, instead just watches the emotions play out over Jack’s face, all desperate yearning and frustration and hope. His eyes are shining and his voice is raw, and Ianto can feel the tremble of Jack’s hand against his waist. Jack pauses too, seeming to need to steel himself for the rest and swallowing quickly before forcing himself to meet Ianto’s eyes directly. “But I can’t,” he murmurs, no more walls left between them. “I can’t get away from you, and I don’t want to try any more.”

“Jack,” Ianto says, breathless and overwhelmed and, oh God, if he hadn’t already fallen, he would be now, because Jack is looking at him like he’s  _ everything _ .

“Let me say this first,” Jack pleads, voice pitched low and the music still falling around them. “I know you aren’t over Lisa completely, and I know that things between us aren’t exactly simple, and probably won’t ever be.” He smiles wryly at that, then swallows it quick before pushing on. “I don’t know what’s going to happen, and I’m not asking for promises. All I’m asking is for a chance, because the only thing I know for sure, is that what I feel when I’m with you… I’m not ready to lose that yet.”

“I’m not ready to lose it either,” Ianto whispers back, voice shaky and soft from the intensity of his emotions.

“Good,” Jack says, a hint of their familiar teasing banter creeping back into his voice and letting out the breath, Ianto hadn’t even realised he’d been holding, in a relieved sigh. “Because I hate to break it to you, but you’re kind of stuck with me, either way, now.”

“I told you I’m here, didn’t I?” Ianto tells him, and Jack’s expression goes fond and gentle again.

“You’ve been telling me that for awhile now, tiger. I think I’m just starting to believe it,” Jack murmurs.

Ianto steps back in, needing to be closer, needing Jack to  _ feel _ that he means it, that they are in this thing together. Jack pulls him in willingly, their bodies tucked as closely as they can get. He can feel Jack’s breath, warm and gentle over his neck where Jack has his face tucked in close, lips just barely touching Ianto’s neck, and when Jack murmurs ‘ _ Ianto _ ’ against his skin, Ianto has to close his eyes against the swell of feeling Jack can put into that one, simple word.

Eventually, the music comes to a stop, and they are left standing in the middle of the dance floor still holding each other, both reluctant to let go. After a long moment, they part a little, arms still loose around each other but no longer pressed so tight, just looking, drinking the other in with new eyes. Jack is the first to break the silence, giving Ianto’s waist a questioning squeeze and saying whisper-soft, “What now?”

Ianto thinks on that for a moment, thinks of all the things they still need to say and talk about, and all the things he wants to do - namely finally kiss Jack without pretense or alcohol to cloud the intent. Both of which need privacy and time.

“Now, you’re going to go find River, and give her that dance you owe her,” Ianto says finally. “And then I’m going to get a convenient headache, and you’ll drive me home and we’ll finish talking about this somewhere I can kiss you.”

“Yeah, okay,” Jack says a little breathlessly, eyes flicking to Ianto’s lips and looking a darker blue when he pulls them away to stare back at Ianto’s own heavy gaze. “The song better be short, though,” he adds, grinning when Ianto rolls his eyes even though he completely agrees. Jack takes his hand and begins to work his way back over to where River and Jodie have just finished a dance of their own, clearly not willing to waste more time than necessary.

A hand catches his arm as they weave through the crowd, though, and when Ianto turns, he sees Ricky Hallett smiling that movie star smile, dark eyes twinkling at him. “Hey, Ianto,” he says happily. “You can’t run off without giving me a dance.”

Ianto has long since overcome his mini-crush, but he isn’t immune to Ricky’s charm. Still, he pauses to look over at Jack, wanting to make sure it’s okay. Jack doesn’t look thrilled at the idea, but he tightens his jaw and loosens his grip on Ianto’s arm before forcing a smile.

“Go for it, tiger,” he says, and Ianto doesn’t miss the little challenging smirk he sends Ricky’s way or the emphasis he puts on the endearment. “I’m going to give River her dance, and then I’ll come find you, okay?”

Ricky just smiles brightly back, either oblivious to the possessive tilt of Jack’s voice or just choosing to ignore it. When Ianto still hesitates for a moment more, not wanting to upset Jack just when they’re finally getting somewhere, Ricky tugs a little at Ianto’s arm and rolls his eyes fondly. “Come on kiddo, don’t deny me my turn around the dance floor with my favourite student.”

And the thing is, Ianto  _ has _ actually missed Ricky. It’s something you forget about at first, when you break up with someone, that you’re breaking up with their family too. No huge loss when it comes to Mr. and Mrs. Hallett, but Ianto’s become kind of used to Ricky’s quirky sense of humour and terrible advice over the months he’s been back in Cardiff and Lisa’s life. There is something comfortingly familiar about him now, like he represents that old part of Ianto’s life, before everything began to fall apart and when Ianto still felt unbreakable with Lisa by his side. He finds he actually wants to dance with Ricky, like maybe in a way, it will be some kind of closure for him before he starts this new, confusing, terrifyingly intense thing with Jack.

“Well, I wouldn’t want to bruise your enormous ego by turning you down,” he teases Ricky, when Jack’s given him another ‘ _ go ahead _ ’ nod. He can’t help but laugh a little when Ricky bounces on the balls of his feet, in a move so reminiscent of Lisa that Ianto’s heart gives a tiny, painful throb at the reminder.

Jack lets him go with another smile, though Ianto doesn’t miss the reluctance in the motion, and back away slowly into the crowd. He can feel Jack’s eyes on him even as the other boy winds his way toward River who is waving at him from the edge of the room, but then Ricky is pulling Ianto back out into an open space and tugging his arm up to begin guiding him through a much smoother version of the foxtrot than he and Jack have ever managed to do.

“Too bad they never play tangos at these things,” Ricky says with a dangerous smile. “We could really make your boyfriend jealous then. I do a mean tango.”

Ianto chokes on the laugh that was beginning to form, because Ricky just said boyfriend which means…

“Yep,” Ricky says, obviously reading the widening of Ianto’s eyes correctly. “Gossip’s been flying around here tonight about how the youngest Harkness boy has been dating a popular tailor’s son.” He winks at Ianto, like they are sharing in some joke, but all Ianto can think is that if Ricky has heard rumours of his fake relationship and tells Lisa before Ianto gets the chance to explain himself, Lisa is going to have the completely wrong impression. Because Ianto’s not about to deny something is happening now, but it hasn’t been happening for a sling as the gossip is likely to suggest and it feels pretty important that Ricky, and by extension Lisa, knows that.

“That’s not exactly the whole story, Rick,” he insists a little warily, wondering just how far the gossip may have travelled. He can’t believe he was naive enough to not consider this kind of thing when he’d started the deal in the first place.

“I’m sure it isn’t,” Ricky teases with a lascivious eyebrow wiggle. “I saw the way you two were looking at each other on the dance floor a few minutes ago. Though wasn’t he after Li-Li the last time I checked? Funny how the world changes, huh?”

Ricky’s tone isn’t mean, in fact, he seems happy and playful and not at all like he might be angry at Ianto for supposedly dating someone else. And while Ianto intends very much on setting Ricky straight about the particulars of what he and Jack are doing (because they may be starting something now, but there is no way that he wants Lisa to ever think that Ianto really started dating Jack as far back as their fake relationship would imply, because he can only imagine the hurt it would cause if Lisa thought he’d moved on that quickly. It’s going to be hard enough explaining his changing feelings to the girl who still holds a place in his heart when she gets back, he doesn’t want Lisa to return thinking that Ianto jumped in bed with Jack just as soon as that plane took off for New York) he also thinks that maybe, if Ricky is really as okay with it all as he seems, just maybe Ricky is someone he can go to for advice about this whole stupid mess he’s in now. Maybe Ricky can help him figure out what to do about London.

“The rumours of my dating life are greatly exaggerated,” he teases back as Ricky spins him out in a flashy move that Ianto is pretty sure has caused any number of girls to swoon when Rick’s pulled it on them.

“Oh, really?” Ricky asks, one perfect eyebrow raised in question.

“Yes, really,” Ianto says. “But you can’t share that with anyone else. I’ll explain, but it’s a bit of a sticky situation so you have to promise to keep your mouth shut.”

“Oooh, colour me intrigued,” Ricky stage-whispers. “I do so love a good sticky situation.” He gives another naughty grin to Ianto, who rolls his eyes fondly.

“Yes, I do seem to remember Lisa and I walking in on one particularly sticky situation involving honey and a busty lady.”

“Oh yeah. That was fun,” Ricky adds with a grin. “But right now, I want to hear about  _ your _ situation Mr. Jones. Consider my ears open and my lips sealed.”

Ianto gives him a grateful smile and then launches into a  _ Cliffs Notes _ version of the last month-and-a-half, starting with that proposition in the coffee shop and ending with, “And I never meant to start  _ liking _ him, not really. Lisa leaving hurt so badly, and at first, I was just trying to get through the summer, and somehow Jack was just always there, making things easier. But now, everything is changing, and I think I’m going to lose London and I’m afraid of losing Lisa from my life completely, but I just can’t change the way I feel. And to top it all off, I can’t even  _ talk _ to anyone about it, because they all think we’re already dating and if anyone finds out about this, they’ll tell my parents and I can’t disappoint them. I can’t.”

It’s felt so good to get to say this all aloud, even if it is just in a hushed whisper as he and Ricky circle around the floor, that he isn’t aware of the fact that the song has changed - or that Ricky has been watching him with an increasingly sceptical, if still kind, smile.

“Ianto, it’s okay,” Ricky says when Ianto finally stops, and Ianto has wanted someone to say those words for so long that he can’t help the little sigh of relief. But then Ricky continues, touch still gentle at Ianto’s back. “You don’t have to lie to me; I’m not judging you.”

And, well. That hadn’t been the reaction he’d expected  _ at all _ . “I’m not lying,” Ianto says, voice and expression confused.

“I know it’s embarrassing, me finding out about your summer boyfriend when I’m Lisa’s brother, but you don’t have to make up fantastical stories about deals and fake relationships to explain it. Though, now that I think about it, that would make an  _ amazing _ film script. You don’t mind if I run with that, do you? With the Ricky Hallett touch, that could really be turned into Hollywood gold, and I’d make sure you got a mention in the credits.”

“Ricky!”

“Fine, maybe we can talk about a cameo appearance or something when the time comes, but-”

“Ricky,” Ianto says again, quieter but more firmly until Rick finally loses that faraway look he gets when he’s thinking up his next big film idea. “It isn’t a story I made up; it’s the truth. I know it’s…  _ unlikely _ maybe, but honestly, I’m not lying.”

Ricky sighs heavily, giving Ianto a pitying glance like he wishes Ianto didn’t feel the need to lie. “Look, I get it, okay?” Ricky says softly. “We all make mistakes in love sometimes, and I’m sure you were lonely and hurting after Lisa left, so I’m not blaming you for wanting to find comfort in someone else. We’ve all done that.”

“But I wasn’t!” Ianto insists, wondering why Ricky has insisted on jumping to that conclusion. “We really did start fake-dating. Didn’t you listen? That’s why I’m in this mess to begin with!”

Ricky sighs, like Ianto is being stubborn still. “Are you worried I’m going to tell Lisa?”

Of course, Ianto’s worried about that, but now that Ricky seems to be stuck in his wrong assumptions, it’s ten times worse. “Well  _ now _ , I’m worried you’re going to tell Lisa that I started dating someone the day she left, which  _ isn’t true _ ,” he says, a little harshly perhaps but really, talking with Ricky was something he’d thought might  _ help _ , not make him feel more panicky. “Obviously, I’d rather be the one to explain everything to her when she gets back, given that she isn’t really taking my calls at the moment, but I’m not  _ hiding _ anything.”

“Okay, look,” Ricky says with another little understanding smile. “I wasn’t supposed to tell you this, but really, you and Lisa are both being silly. If you were just honest about things, you’d realise you’re both in the same boat and could just forgive each other instead of worrying all summer that the other one won’t take you back if they know.”

“Forgive each other what? Know what?” Ianto asks, though the music seems to be fading as a roaring builds in his ears as though his body already knows he doesn’t really want to hear what Ricky has to say next.

“Forgive each other for sleeping with other people while you’re apart,” Ricky says like it’s obvious, and the roar in Ianto’s ears has turned into an ocean.

“What?” he says numbly, but Ricky is already continuing, completely oblivious to Ianto’s distress.

“Granted, Lisa waited nine days instead of one, but considering she was the one to insist on the break, I’m pretty sure she won’t blame you for seeking out comfort a little faster than she did,” Ricky tells him. “In fact, this is exactly why I think you should just let me tell her the truth, because the kid has been beating herself up about it for weeks now, freaking out that you’ll never take her back. But if she knows that you were with someone, too, while you were waiting for her, she might feel better. I mean, don’t you feel better knowing that you don’t have to feel guilty for this little fling you’ve got going?”

“I’m not - nine days?”

Ricky seems to startle out of his monologue then, pausing as he really looks at Ianto for the first time since he started trying to ‘fix’ things. Ianto isn’t sure what his face looks like at the moment, mostly because he’s trying to keep the world from tilting off its axis and stop his mind from conjuring up the image of Lisa with someone else ( _ nine days _ ) which Ianto was still crying himself to sleep most nights.

Whatever Ianto looks like, it must be enough to finally convince Ricky that Ianto wasn’t just being stubborn, and his expression falls. “Shit. You  _ weren’t _ lying about the fake part, were you?”

Ianto shakes his head, and it feels like he’s moving through water. The air has gone thick and oppressive around him and he can’t  _ breathe _ , because Lisa…

Lisa hadn’t ever intended to come back to him.  _ No, not that _ , he reminds himself. Ricky’s stupid speech seems to indicate that Lisa did plan to come back; she’d just maybe not planned on spending the summer alone. And that might not be fair either, if Lisa’s been freaking out about Ianto taking her back, but Ianto’s not feeling very fair right now, because if  _ nine days _ is all it’s taken Lisa to move on, then what the hell does that say about Ianto? Is he that forgettable? And will Jack forget him just as quickly? He probably won’t even need nine days, given that they’ve hardly even liked each other at all for more than a month.

“I have to go,” Ianto whispers, hands dropping. They’ve stopped dancing by now, they’re just standing in the middle of the floor while brightly-dressed couples spin around them in time to a song that Ianto can’t hear because Ianto can’t  _ breathe _ . Nine days… “I have to go,” he repeats. “I need some air.”

And then he’s pushing away from Ricky and running. He’s pretty sure he hears someone call his name, but he can’t even stop to turn because he has to get out, needs to get out right now before this sick roll of hurt and nausea low in his stomach ( _ nine days, nine days _ ) makes him throw up. Ahead of him, he sees a side door in the lobby, no doormen to look at, no guests out that way, and he turns for it, pushing against the cool metal and bursting out into the night air.

He’s gone out a service entrance, he’s pretty sure, given the small set of concrete steps that look out over a parking area and small loading dock, but all he cares about is that the sky is wide open above him and he can gulp down huge breaths, steadying himself against the railing on the steps as he tries to stop the world from spinning.

“I didn’t think Jack was  _ that _ bad of a dancer,” a voice says from the shadows behind him, and Ianto turns to see Gray lounging against the cement wall next to the doorway, the glowing tip of a cigarette visible against the black night as he takes another drag.

Ianto gapes at him for a moment, because dancing with Jack seems like forever ago, like each heartbeat since Ricky told him ( _ nine days, nine days _ ) just how much he’d meant to Lisa has been a year, and he can’t quite get his bearing back enough to return the joke like he knows he’s meant to. Instead he finds himself sinking down to sit on the middle step, not even caring about the fact that he is sitting on dirty concrete in a vintage tux, and drops his head down between his knees.

“Ianto?” Gray’s voice sounds concerned now, and out of the corner of his eye, Ianto can see the sparks as Gray flicks the cigarette butt out into the parking area and pushes off the wall to move closer.

Before he can get too far, the door is swinging open again, and Ricky stumbles out looking frantic. His eyes land on Ianto’s form, hunched over the steps and he sighs in relief even though his tone is still apologetic and rushed as he speaks, one hand running over his head and back down to his neck, massaging the skin there as he tries to find the right words. Ianto would tell him there aren’t really any right words to explain to someone that the person they thought loved them more than anything had only taken  _ nine days _ to get over them, but he mostly needs to concentrate on breathing right now, or he’s a little afraid he’s going to pass out.

“Ianto!” Thank God, I was afraid you’d gone completely. You have to let me explain better, I’m so sorry I didn’t know… I thought that you-”

Ricky pauses mid-sentence, and Ianto, even as lost as he is, glances up automatically to see what’s stopped him. It’s Gray, whose taken one half-step out of the shadows and towards them, a frown on his face and a protective glint in his eye as he looks between Ianto and Ricky like he’s trying to decide if Rick is the reason for Ianto’s distress, and if so, just how best to kill him.

“Gray?” Ricky’s voice is whisper-soft and raw, like he can’t quite believe who it is he’s seeing and is choking on the hope of it.

Gray deflates under that voice, and Ianto has never seen him look so goddamn  _ young _ before. “Hey Rick. Long time no see,” he responds, voice just as cracked as Ricky’s had been, a pained smile flashing across his face before he shuts it down.

“Oh my God,  _ Gray _ . I thought you were in Glasgow,” Ricky continues, turned completely away from Ianto, and once again, Ianto thinks, he must be pretty easily forgettable to those Hallett siblings.

Gray looks at Ianto, running eyes over him again as if to make sure he’s still there, still okay, even as he answers, that same half-smile that really isn’t quirking his lips. “Sorry to disappoint. Summer in Cardiff this year.”

“Disappoint?” Ricky asks, sounding confused and overwhelmed. He takes a step towards Gray, reaches out for him, but Gray steps back again until he’s pressed back against the wall. “Gray,  _ no _ , I’ve been… God, I’ve stuck around this stupid city for months hoping to see you.”

This is news to Ianto, who’d thought for sure Ricky’s main reason for sticking around had been Lisa ( _ Lisa, nine days _ ). Gray looks a little disbelieving too, and his face is twisted up into a sarcastic expression, though Ianto can still read the hurt there. “Funny, I’ve been back here for  _ months _ , and yet I don’t recall you ever picking up a phone or knocking on my door.”

“I wanted to, I did but-”

Whatever Ricky’s excuse was going to be, it is cut off when the door slams open again and Jack bursts through, looking worried and kind of like he’s out for blood. He sags a little in relief when he sees Ianto sitting on the steps in front of him, and his eyes do the same once over that Gray’s had, checking that he’s okay. Ianto’s so not okay, though, even if the wound isn’t visible, because how on Earth is he supposed to keep a guy like  _ Jack _ interested in him, when Lisa - Lisa who was supposed to  _ love _ him - had moved on in  _ nine days _ ?

Jack probably doesn’t read all  _ that _ subtext, but he seems to be aware of the fact that Ianto is still hurt in some way, and his eyes flash angrily again, muscles tensing, as he rounds on Ricky who is still staring at Gray (who is staring between all three of them, confusion written clear over his features).

“What the hell did you do?” Jack growls, stepping into Ricky’s space and getting one first around the lapel of Ricky’s tux to haul him up and closer while waves of tension and barely controlled fury roll off of him. Ricky swallows. “What did you say to him, you motherfu-”

“I didn’t know!” Ricky interrupts, sounding sorry. “I didn’t know that you two were just faking the dating thing,” (Gray’s eyes widen and he looks between Ianto and Jack shrewdly but he doesn’t say anything, so Ianto doesn’t have the energy at the moment to care. Jack seems so focussed on his anger that he hasn’t even noticed Gray yet, noticed the slip). “I thought Ianto was just trying to make things sound better; I was only trying to  _ help _ ,” Ricky babbles, looking pleadingly at Ianto. The worst part is, Ianto knows he’s telling the truth. It has always been Ricky’s style to ‘help’ in the worst ways possible, but he always means well.

Ricky’s still talking, trying to explain to all of them that he hadn’t understood that Ianto  _ meant it _ when he said that he and Jack hadn’t been dating since Lisa left. Jack’s still got a grip on his blazer, but the fist has loosened just a little as he notices Gray finally, standing in the shadows. The brothers are staring at each other, questions and challenges pouring between them unspoken, but Ricky is oblivious and just keeps trying to explain. None of it is making it any easier for Ianto to deal with his complicated swirl of emotions, not the pain of feeling worthless, the throbbing in his head from too much adrenaline and too many emotions still making him dizzy and sick. All he really wants is to go home.

He doesn’t get the chance to say as much before the door opens one last time, and River peeks around the corner at the group of them. Ricky turns his head, no doubt ready to try and explain to her too, about how he  _ hadn’t meant to _ , but Gray seems to shake off his own melancholy and steps forward with an air of authority before he can say a word.

“Ricky, shut up,” he says firmly, shocking Ricky into silence. He turns to his sister and gives her a bland smile that makes her narrow her eyes, but she doesn’t say anything yet. “River, would you go get the valet to pull Jack’s car around? Ianto isn’t feeling too well, and he needs to go home.”

River turns widened eyes Ianto’s way, and he must look pale and shaky enough to pass for sick because her expression immediately softens, all traces of suspicion wiped away. “Yeah, of course.” She nods. “Do you need anything else? Want me to get Mum? Or I’m pretty sure there’s actually a couple of doctors wandering around this thing, I could…”

“Just the car; I think it’s a migraine,” Gray lies smoothly, and with another nod and a sympathetic little frown for Ianto, River disappears back inside, letting the door swing shut behind her.

“Was that  _ River _ ?” Ricky is babbling again. “Oh my God, she grew up good, huh?”

“Ricky,  _ shut up _ ,” Gray repeats. “Jack, let go of him.”

Jack looks like he’s going to argue, but there must be something in Gray’s eyes that convinces him because he finally drops his hold and steps away, moving immediately to Ianto’s side. Ianto, for his part, has dropped his head back down, not wanting to be here anymore, not wanting to answer any of the million questions he knows are coming. It’s been hard enough to convince himself that Jack might actually like him; there is no way he’s ready to make himself vulnerable by telling the guy he’s falling for that his last partner had taken little more than a week to move on. God, it sounds so pathetic.

Jack thankfully doesn’t say anything yet, just sits down beside Ianto and places a tentative hand on his back. Ianto can hear Gray telling Ricky that he needs to go home and not talk about this to  _ anyone _ . That he’ll come by later and explain, but right now, Ricky just needs to go and, for God’s sake, keep his damn mouth shut. Ianto feels a surge of affection and gratitude for Gray, who must be going through his own kind of purgatory right now being so close to the guy he loves who has hurt him so badly, and yet he is still standing up for Ianto even at the expense of his own heart. Ianto wouldn’t have blamed him for running the minute Ricky had come out, but he's so thankful he didn’t. 

The door opens and shuts again quietly, and when Gray crouches down on his other side, Ianto assumes Ricky must have gone. Gray’s hand is on his back next to Jack’s, two warm firm weights that are the only points of comfort in Ianto’s spinning world right now. That care, more than the pain and disappointment of finding out how forgettable he was, is what breaks through the rest of Ianto’s fragilely held composure and the first tears fall as he manages to finally whisper the words that have been pounding at his head ever since Ricky told him the truth.

“I want to go home. Please, I just want to go home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the late posting! i drove 5 hours today for a friend to pick up a kitten from their friend haha.
> 
> i hope you all enjoyed this! it was a bit of an emotional rollercoaster but ;P
> 
> thank you as always to princessoftheworlds !


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ianto heads home after the gala with Jack. What will the future hold for them?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know this is a day late. i went to my mum's last night instead of tonight and didn't get back until late, sorry :(
> 
> so, this is the last chapter of part one. i'll be sorting out part two and a few other fics i'm planning. i hope you all enjoy :)

Ianto feels like he is walking underwater.

Everything around him seems slowed down and muted, trapped as he is in his own mind, heart thumping painfully in his chest as he tries to process just how much everything has tilted in the past half an hour.  _ Has it really only been that long? _ He is aware of Gray and Jack flanking him, two warm hands against his back the only steady points of contact, grounding him when he thinks just maybe he’d rather float away.

They are talking, but he’s pretty sure not to him, so it doesn’t matter much that their voices only sound like so much static over the white noise in his head. He’s not really even thinking so much as existing, and all he wants right now is to be in his own bed, tucked in safe in the dark. All he wants to do is sleep, for this awful day to be over so that he can get on with the processing and compartmentalising and moving on. He is glad for the numbness; it’s better than the hurt and worry from a few minutes ago.

“Ianto?”

His name breaks through the fog, and Ianto turns towards the voice, finding Jack looking at him with concern etched across his features. He feels the urge to soothe that worry but doesn’t have the energy to figure out how. So instead he just looks.

“Ianto? Are you… do you want to get in?”

Jack gestures vaguely, and Ianto follows the motion with his eyes, finds that they are at the valet stand -  _ he doesn’t remember walking here, just remembers ‘I want to go home _ .’ Jack’s Rover is parked in front of him, engine still running quietly and the passenger side door swung wide.

“Oh,” Ianto says, and his voice sounds far away. Jack bites his lip and the fingers against Ianto’s back tighten slightly. “I’d like to go home now.” He has a feeling he’s maybe said it before by the look on Jack’s face, but Jack doesn’t say anything, just nods towards the open door.

“I’m going to take you home.” Ianto thinks that Jack’s voice sounds pained, but he doesn’t know why. He can’t  _ think _ , not right now.

“Okay,” Ianto agrees and gets in, buckling up automatically and leaning his head back against the headrest, eyes closing as a wave of exhaustion sweeps over him. He hears Jack say something to someone ( _ Gray? Hadn’t Gray been with them just a minute ago? _ ), and then Jack is sliding into the driver’s seat and closing his door, hands clenching white-knuckled around the wheel for a moment before he sighs and shifts into gear, pulling away from the venue. Ianto’s eyes flicker open, and he tilts his head to the side, watching the twinkling lights that line the drive blur past as Jack speeds away.

They drive in silence. Ianto can feel Jack’s eyes on him, turned from the road every few minutes, but he can’t find the will to return the gaze, instead focusing on the dark whipping past out his window, headlights and the occasional shadowy shape flashing across his view before it is all swallowed back up. He knows there is so much he needs to say, to explain. Hell, Jack probably doesn’t even really know what happened yet, but Ianto feels too tired.

He can’t right now, can’t find the words or the energy to explain, to lay this recent wound open. He remembers too well Jack’s anger with Lisa, the edge that seems to sharpen all their interactions when Lisa comes up, and Ianto can’t handle any more hurt tonight. So instead, he avoids Jack’s gaze and his own thoughts and watches the passing black.

He must drift off at some point, because the next thing he knows, there is a gentle hand shaking him awake. His forehead is pressed to the cool glass of the car window, and when he blinks his eyes open, he can see his house, dark except for the outside light glowing - a beacon of warmth in the night. Rhiannon had remembered.

“Ianto.”

Oh, right.

Ianto turns his head slowly, neck stiff from sleeping in his slumped position, to find Jack watching him. The hand that shook him back into consciousness is still resting on his shoulder, thumb stroking gently over his collarbone through the thin material of his shirt, but Jack’s eyes are guarded. Ianto’s heart aches at the wariness in them, the return of a distance so recently breached. He wants to see Jack’s eyes light-filled and happy again, wants to bring back all that giddy feeling that had suffused them both just hours ( _ it feels like a lifetime _ ) ago. They were supposed to be coming back here under such different circumstances.

Ianto opens his car door.

Jack sighs, drops his hand away and holds onto the steering wheel again as if it is a life raft in a storm. Ianto thinks perhaps this is where Jack leaves him, with a goodnight and maybe a few seconds pause for Ianto to walk up to the door before he pulls away into the night. Instead, after a few heavy moments, Jack’s hands fall from the wheel to undo his seatbelt and open his own door. Ianto climbs out, shivering a little in the night even though it isn’t really all that cold, and then Jack is beside him with an arm around his shoulders, steering him towards the house.

He curls into the warmth of Jack, body angling a little closer automatically, and for a moment, the quiet hum in his mind of trying not to think, trying not to feel, drains away and everything seems clear. Jack is still here, Jack is beside him, and that is all that really matters. They step into the quiet house then though, and Ianto catches sight of the family photos still lining the entryway, sees Lisa’s face smiling out at him from their dinner table in a photo taken over the Easter weekend, and he wonders ‘ _ Was she sick of me even then? _ ’ and ‘ _ How long until Jack is, too? _ ’

The house is silent, and Ianto spares a thought for where Tosh and Rhiannon might be. He’s not sure what time it is, but he’s pretty sure it is too early for them to be passed out upstairs in Rhiannon’s room. He thinks about calling out but, in the end, decides that he doesn’t really feel like talking or explaining.

Jack pauses in the doorway, as he is unsure about following Ianto inside, but when Ianto doesn’t protest his presence, he steps fully inside and shuts the door quietly behind him. Ianto toes off his shoes on autopilot, watching as Jack does the same, before shrugging out of his blazer, hanging it over the banister of the staircase and leaving him in just his shirt. For a moment, Ianto forgets all about revelations and heartache and doubt, captivated by the way Jack’s muscles shift under the thin material. The tan of his skin looks even better against the crisp white of the fabric, and Ianto allows his mind to conjure pictures of slowly undoing each one of the tiny buttons and revealing more of that skin, pressing lips and tongue and fingers over it until Jack falls apart under his actions. But then Jack is steering him up the stairs, and the thoughts slip away under another wave of exhaustion. Suddenly, his bed is all he wants.

There’s a note taped onto his bedroom door, and Ianto is sure at any other time, he’d be getting ready to lecture Rhiannon about paint coming up with the tape, but right now, he’s not even thinking clearly enough to read it. Jack reaches up to pull it down, and the movement jostles Ianto in closer against his chest. For a moment Jack freezes, as if he’s expecting Ianto to pull away, but Ianto doesn’t want to. Instead, he just turns into the embrace further, curling loose fingers around Jack’s arm and resting his head against Jack’s shoulder. He’s just so tired, and Jack is warm and solid and real. Jack’s body relaxes under Ianto’s touch, though there is still a hesitant stiffness to his body. Still, the arm around Ianto’s shoulder holds him close as Jack reads the note before pushing open Ianto’s bedroom door.

“Rhiannon went to Toshiko’s for the night,” Jack says quietly, steering Ianto into the soft darkness of his room and forgoing the light.

“Okay,” Ianto whispers back, voice dull and a little scratchy from disuse. It doesn’t really matter to him where Rhiannon is, not right now.

Jack looks at him for a moment like he wants to ask something, and Ianto braces for the flood of questions he knows must be circling in Jack’s mind. And Jack deserves answers, he does. He’s been astoundingly patient to not have asked thus far, especially given their own conversation on the dance floor and the almost-promises and declarations they’d made there. Ianto wants to give him answers too, wants to reassure him and explain, wants Jack to know that just because he’s hurting it doesn’t mean anything between them is changed, doesn’t make Ianto’s feelings for him any less potent and real. But right this instant, he doesn’t have it in him, not to reassure or explain or even ask for a reprieve. He’s just so tired, and he doesn’t want to think right now. Not with the hurt so fresh. He’s pretty sure anything he says right now is going to come out wrong anyway.

He’s not sure if Jack catches something of his deer-in-the-headlights look, or if he just can’t find words himself, but in either case, he doesn’t ask anything in the end. Ianto nearly sags in relief and shuffles towards his bed in the dark, wanting nothing but to burrow under the covers and forget for a while. Maybe in the morning, words will be easier.

Jack watches him turn, and Ianto thinks he hears him sigh again but he can’t be sure, doesn’t turn back to check. He keeps waiting for the moment when Jack leaves, deeming Ianto home and safe and can wash his hands of all the mess. Jack surprises him though, keeps surprising him really, because he is still here. Even now as Ianto scoots back against the headboard, Jack’s only turned away to start shifting through Ianto’s drawers, emerging after a moment with a pair of soft grey pyjama bottoms and a white t-shirt in hand. Ianto looks at him, standing there in the shadows of the room with the clothing held out like an offering, and feels like crying.

The thing of it is, he’d always thought Lisa would be the one that never left.

Even with this idea for the summer holidays, even with Lisa’s ignoring of his calls and messages, Ianto had always assumed Lisa would be the one to always come back. Perhaps it was naive, but he’s held onto that ‘ _ I’ll come back to you _ ,’ even when he hasn’t been sure if he’s still willing to wait. While he was in the process of falling for Jack, it never even occurred to him that Lisa would be falling too, for someone else. Maybe that was arrogant of him, but it’s the truth. Ianto always expected Lisa to come back.

What hurts then, he realises quietly in his tired mind as he stands again and begins to undo the buttons on his shirt, is not just losing Lisa but losing that belief. He stares at the line of Jack’s back, turned toward him as Jack stares at the opposite wall, giving Ianto privacy as he strips and changes into soft cotton, and realises that he isn’t hurting so much over the idea of Lisa not coming back. He is hurting over the idea of Lisa never having intended to. It is his pride and his trust and his memories that are being damaged by Ricky’s ill-timed words, but his heart - miraculously - is still relatively intact. He’s pretty sure it has everything to do with the boy in front of him.

Nothing is fixed by the realisation though, because it still hurts regardless of the reasons why. He still can’t bring himself to step forwards and reach for the comfort of Jack’s arms, paralysed as he is by the thought that if Lisa - loyal, dependable, love you ‘til the end Lisa - could forgo all her good intentions in only nine days, there is nothing that promises Jack won’t do the same. Love -  _ and is it even love he’s starting to feel again? _ \- feels a much less safe and steady thing right now, and Ianto is desperate at this moment for stability. How can he ask for that from someone who is just learning to like him, is just learning to like  _ anyone _ ? How can he expect Jack to give him anything at all?

Though his fingers itch to reach out and reassure himself that all the words they spoke tonight are still true, to kiss and hold Jack until he feels warmed again from the inside out, he holds back. He needs tonight, needs to sleep and process still, before he asks for or offers anything he isn’t sure he’s ready yet to give. It wouldn’t be fair to either of them for him to take comfort from Jack, if in fact, it turns out Ianto is too broken to return that comfort. Jack deserves more than that, and right now, Ianto is too tired to give it to him.

With a sigh of his own, Ianto climbs into bed instead.

The rustling of the sheets must signal to Jack that it is safe to turn around. He starts to move towards the bed himself, eyes scanning over Ianto as they have been all night, assessing for damage that isn’t visible. Ianto thinks for a moment that Jack might crawl in next to him and he aches with wanting it, wanting to be held and cradled and loved - even abstractly - until he stops hurting quite so much. Jack doesn’t though, instead kneels slowly next to the head of Ianto’s bed and looks at him with wary eyes, shuttered against emotion but not so tightly that Ianto can’t see the worry and pain leaking through. He wants to reach out, wants to touch Jack’s cheek, wants to soothe away that look, but he can’t remember how. He blinks heavily, covers pulled up to his chin in a comforting warm weight that is already dragging him down.  _ Tomorrow _ , he thinks.  _ I’ll fix it tomorrow _ .

Jack hasn’t forgotten how to touch, it seems, because after a moment of silent watching, he lifts a hand to run gently through Ianto’s hair, calming him and sending him faster towards oblivion. They stay like that for a long time, or at least Ianto thinks it feels like a long time, Jack’s fingers stroking along his scalp and the hushed darkness around them. Finally, though, when Ianto’s eyes are blinking open only every few minutes, Jack breaks the silence.

“Do you want me to stay?” he whispers, and even drifting towards dreams, Ianto can hear the tentative hope in that question, though he can’t tell which answer Jack is hoping for. He can’t imagine Jack would  _ want _ to stay, not when Ianto is barely responsive and already falling asleep. He’s saved from having to answer - the ‘ _ yes, always _ ’ trapped behind his teeth by guilt and a heavy heart - by the sound of the front door opening and slamming shut.

“Jack?” Gray’s voice rings out, carrying easily up the stairs. “Ianto?”

Jack rolls his eyes at his brother’s loud entrance, and Ianto lets a tiny smile quirk his lips at the look of fond exasperation that Jack wears. Jack smiles back, and for a moment, Ianto can only feel the happy little glow of warmth that so often pulses through him these days when the other boy is around. The sound of heavy feet on the stairs breaks the spell though, and Jack’s face falls back into lines of upset worry even as Ianto feels a fresh wave of pain at the memory of how Lisa used to smile at him, like he was everything.

“Sleep,” Jack says, voice roughened with some kind of emotion. He’s already standing when the bedroom door creaks open a little, and Ianto can feel Gray’s hovering presence broadcasting worry and anger of his own as clearly as if he was shouting it.

“Is he…?” Gray whispers into the dark, and Ianto squeezes his eyes shut in mock sleep, remembering all at once how very much he doesn’t want to answer questions right now.

“Sleeping,” Jack answers, and Ianto feels a wave of gratitude. “Go downstairs, I’ll meet you in a minute.”

Gray must give some sign of assent, though Ianto doesn’t turn to look, because he can hear the door quietly almost shutting again and then the sound of softer footsteps descending the stairs. Jack sighs again before Ianto feels one more gentle brush of fingertips across his hair.

“Ianto…” Jack starts to say, and Ianto waits - waits to hear ‘ _ I’m going now _ ’ or ‘ _ this was all a mistake _ .’ Jack doesn’t say either of those things, though - just bends down to press a kiss to Ianto’s forehead and whispers, “Rest now, okay? I’ll be downstairs if you need me.”

Ianto feels the burn of tears in his throat, wants to grab Jack’s arms and ask him to stay right here - to not go even that far, but he doesn’t. He hears the quiet shuffle of Jack’s feet across the carpet and the click of the door, and then he is alone in the dark. Despite all the emotional turmoil swirling through him, or perhaps because of it, he is asleep in minutes.

\-----

When Ianto next wakes up, the room is bathed in weak grey light. He figures it says something about how far away his mind is that this is the first thing he notices, instead of the fact that he is definitely no longer alone in bed.

Gray is grinning at him from barely a foot away, head resting on the pillow next to Ianto’s with a hand tucked underneath, and Ianto blinks owlishly a few times as he tries to figure out if this is all some sort of bizarre dream.

Of course it isn’t.

When Ianto’s eyes focus and the haze of lingering dreams has been cleared, he can see that underneath the grin, Gray looks tired.  _ He’s had quite the evening too _ , Ianto muses, remembering the way Gray had looked standing outside in the dark with a cigarette hanging loose between his fingers and an old heartbreak in his eyes. Ricky hadn’t just brought secondhand pain with him when he came back into town.

“Hiya, sweetheart,” Gray whispers, voice scratchy, and Ianto wonders how long Gray has been lying here - watching him and waiting for him to open his eyes.

“What time is it?” he asks, trying to peer over Gray’s shoulder at the alarm clock on the bedside table behind him.

“Just a little before five.”

Ianto nods, like there is nothing strange at all about finding your fake -  _ or not-so-fake? _ \- boyfriend’s older brother snuggled in bed with you at quarter-to-five on a Saturday morning in July. Maybe there isn’t, or at least, now where Harkness boys are concerned. And speaking of Harkness boys…

“Where’s Jack?” he asks, not quite daring to meet Gray’s eyes. He’s all at once aware of the fact that Gray now knows about the ruse, and he can’t help but wonder if maybe he’s in for some kind of lecture, or worse. The thing is, despite this new obstacle, Ianto is still mostly worried that Jack hasn’t stuck around. He can’t say he’s a not a little disappointed to be finding the wrong brother in his bed, but neither can he say he’d blame Jack for going home. After everything that’s gone down tonight, how could he?

“He’s passed out on the couch,” Gray says, the corners of his smile tilting up a little higher. “He wore himself out raging earlier about how he was going to fly all the way to New York just to give your ex one good punch in the mouth.”

“He did not!” Ianto protests, half-disbelieving, half-horrified, and maybe, just a little, warmed inside at the thought.

“Did so,” Gray insists. “You’re lucky I swiped his wallet before he could buy the ticket, or he’d be halfway to the airport by now.”

Ianto has no idea if what Gray is saying is true or only so much exaggeration, but it’s a nice thought - even if he doesn’t usually approve of violence. Especially as at the mention of Lisa, of New York, his mind supplies in a near taunting voice words like ‘ _ Did she ever even plan to try and wait? _ ’ and ‘ _ Why would she wait for  _ you,  _ with all of New York at her feet? _ ’ It’s as if even his own thoughts are uncaring of the way the words still make him feel a little raw. So maybe the thought that anyone - that  _ Jack _ \- wants to lash out on his behalf, physically even, is rather therapeutic.

“So, you know what happened then,” he says after a few moments, needing very badly to silence the voices in his head and also strangely realising he both wants and doesn’t want to talk about it all at once.

“Ricky explained,” Gray says wryly, like Ricky and explanations aren’t the best of combinations. Ianto looks up sharply still, because either he doesn’t remember a whole chunk of conversation or Gray has been speaking to Ricky since they left the gala.

Gray looks for a moment like he isn’t going to elaborate, but then sighs and flops over onto his back, wiggling a few inches closer to Ianto on the mattress. Ianto doesn’t protest the proximity. For one, there are bigger issues at hand than Gray’s cuddle-tendencies and for another… well, after tonight, maybe he needs the comfort of it, too.

“I went to see him after you left,” Gray continues after he’s settled. He’s staring up at the ceiling and refusing to meet Ianto’s eyes, but Ianto just waits silently for him to continue. “Amongst a lot of other…  _ things _ he apparently had to say, he explained to me about what happened with Lisa. And about how you and my brother are apparently quite the little actors.”

Ianto flushes guiltily and drops onto his back as well, not wanting to meet Gray’s eyes. When they’d started this whole deal, he’d never even considered that their pretend relationship might affect more people than the two of them, and he’d certainly never expected to like the Harknesses so much as to feel  _ guilty _ for lying to them. But it did, and he does, and now, he’s pretty sure he’s got some explaining to do if he doesn’t want to be  _ persona non grata _ in that house for the rest of his life, which he really, really doesn’t. It would certainly make things awkward now that he may actually be dating Jack.

Above all else, he’s pretty sure he owes it to Jack to smooth things over, since it’s kind of Ianto’s fault that the whole lie got exposed in the first place.

“About that,” he starts, winces at the way his voice goes high and guilty sounding. “It isn’t what you think.”

“Oh?” Gray asks, and Ianto can just hear the smirk in his voice without even looking. “So you’re telling me my brother didn’t bribe or blackmail you into playing his boyfriend for the summer to get Mum off his back?”

Ianto can’t help the tiny, inappropriately-timed bubble of laughter that escapes him, because Gray’s certainly summed it up nicely, hasn’t he? “Okay, so maybe it’s exactly what you think,” he allows, pleased to see that Gray is still smiling when he chances a look.

They grin at each other for a moment, and Ianto is suddenly, powerfully aware of the fact that Gray and Jack are brothers. It is a realisation that sobers him somewhat, because he can picture how he would feel if he learned that Johnny had only been pretending to date Rhiannon and they had lied to him about it for all this time, and can only imagine that Gray must be feeling, at the very least, a little bit of that betrayal. However, in another show of sibling likeness, Gray surprises him.

“I’m not mad, you know,” he says, laughing a little himself at Ianto’s stunned and slightly disbelieving look. “I’m not,” he insists. “Truth be told, I feel a little better knowing I wasn’t crazy all this time for thinking something was a little off.”

“You did not know this whole time,” Ianto scoffs, though he’s a little uncertain. He’d thought they’d done a remarkably good job of playing the whole thing off, and it’s never nice to hear that your acting skills may not be quite up to snuff.

“No, I didn’t  _ know _ ,” Gray agrees. “But there were times I wondered.”

“Like when?” Ianto asks, genuinely curious but also hoping to maybe distract Gray from remembering that Ianto had been party to an epic deception.

“Like every time Jack snuck out at night those first few weeks after we met you.”

“You knew he snuck out?” Ianto asks, still trying to process the fact that apparently Gray hasn’t been quite so oblivious as he’d assumed.

“Please,” Gray scoffs. “Climbing out of a ground floor window onto a noisy drive? That’s nothing. I was dropping twelve feet from a trellis by the time I was sixteen, and that wasn’t even the hard part. Getting back up?  _ That _ was a feat.”

Ianto cocks his head, considering Gray and trying to picture a younger version of him swinging from a trellis in an attempt to sneak out to a forbidden party. It’s not hard to do.

“He could have been coming to see me,” Ianto argues after a second, just because he hates having been caught out at his own game.

“Could have been,” Gray allows. “In fact, I was pretty sure that’s exactly what he was doing at first, until he snuck out the night you were already there.”

Ianto frowns at that, remembering the night Jack snuck out to the glitter party and his both confusing and enlightening ride home with Gray the next morning. Had Gray really already suspected that something was amiss by then?

“I have to admit, the love-bite the size of Scotland on your neck the next morning threw me off,” Gray teases, poking a gentle finger at the side of Ianto’s mark-free throat and making Ianto squawk indignantly and bat at his hand.

“Do you want to know what really made me wonder, though?” he asks when Ianto has successfully pushed his hand away. Ianto nods. “It was the way you both watched each other sometimes, like you were looking at something you weren’t allowed to want. I’m no expert on the boyfriend thing, but I’m pretty sure that look isn’t one that is typical in an already established relationship.”

Ianto has to close his eyes tight at that, because in his heart of hearts, he knows that is exactly how he has been feeling for weeks now, terrified of wanting something he shouldn’t, something he  _ can’t _ , only now, of course, he  _ can _ and that is perhaps even scarier, knowing that Jack is right there with him - has perhaps always been with him - just waiting for Ianto to be ready.

This new revelation about Lisa only complicates things more, reminds Ianto that is isn’t yet completely over Lisa or her place in Ianto’s life and maybe, even more than that, reminds Ianto of all the dangers and pitfalls that come inherent with trusting someone to hold your heart, to keep it safe. His belief in love has been so bruised in these past few hours, that he’s not sure he’s capable of fully entrusting himself to someone new. These are all too heavy of thoughts for this hour, and anyway, if he’s learned anything these past few months, it is that thoughts like this, decisions like this, shouldn’t be made alone - not when there is someone else as equally a part of it as you are. So Ianto tucks away his worries for now about what being with Jack might mean, about what a risk it might be, and instead focuses on the problem at hand.

“So, if you knew all this time, why didn’t you say anything? Why didn’t you call us out?” he asks, incredulity colouring his tone.

“Because I didn’t  _ know _ , not really,” Gray tells him. “And because for every moment I had a doubt, there were a hundred moments when anyone looking at you two could tell you were together. Because, somehow, you two fit each other even when it didn’t make any sense. And because Jack has smiled more in the last two months than he has in the last four years.”

Gray trails off at Ianto’s wide-eyed stare, and Ianto can feel his heart aching in a way completely opposite to the hurt he’s been feeling all night. It is that pleasant sort of ache that comes with liking someone, that comes with knowing you aren’t alone in that emotion. Gray smiles at him, though it turns a little sad, and Ianto wonders if maybe Gray is remembering a boy that used to make him smile more in two months than he had in a lifetime. Ianto doesn’t get much chance to wonder though, before Gray is continuing - voice quiet and sincere.

“Look, Ianto, I’m hardly the person with the right to judge other people’s fucked-up relationships. Do I love the idea of Jack trying to trick all of us? Of course not. But the way I see it, is that however this whole thing started out, in the end you both got a lot more than you bargained for. I’m actually rather inclined to believe that I should feel a little sorry for you both. Stumbling into love accidentally isn’t exactly easy, is it?”

“It isn’t love,” Ianto says hurriedly.  _ It can’t be, not yet _ . He doesn’t think he can survive even the possibility right now. Just being  _ something _ to Jack, having Jack be something to him, is already overwhelming enough, in both terrifying and wonderful ways.

Gray looks at him incredulously but doesn’t push it for the moment, for which Ianto is infinitely grateful. He also suddenly, desperately, really wants to see Jack’s face, just to make sure the good parts of last night weren’t just a dream before the nightmare.

“Fine,” Gray says, rolling his eyes like Ianto is just stubbornly arguing semantics. “Whatever you want to call it, what you two are doing right now is real. You may not want to admit that to yourselves yet but it is, and I’d have to be a bigger dick than I am to try and ruin that by outing you for the fake beginnings.”

“So, you aren’t going to tell anyone?” Ianto asks tentatively. It seems too much to hope for, that maybe in all of this mess, he hasn’t screwed up Jack’s life, too.

“No, I won’t tell,” Gray promises. “And Ricky’s going to keep his mouth shut, too, I took care of that.”

It’s probably a very good thing that he did, too, Ianto thinks, considering he himself hadn’t even stopped to think about the kind of damage Ricky and his big mouth could do with that little bit of information.

“He isn’t going to tell Lisa either,” Gray continues, voice a little softer, and Ianto’s stomach twists.

“Oh?” he manages, not able to ask for more, or feeling like he’s allowed.

“I asked him not to,” Gray says. “And, he kind of owes me one. So whenever Lisa comes back, you can be the one to explain it all to her.”

Ianto feels tears building up behind his eyes again, and he can’t even pinpoint why. He is a mix of emotions, anger and frustration and sadness and shame. He hates that Lisa hurt him; he hates that his hurt over Lisa is in turn hurting others. Hates himself for being able to hurt at all.

“Why are you doing this for me?” he asks finally, just to keep from crying. “Why do you even care about my reputation or relationship with Lisa?”

“Because I care about you, dummy,” Gray sighs, sounding very put-upon and fond. “And, because it  _ isn’t _ just for you. I’m doing this for Jack, too.”

“If you were doing this for Jack, you could have stopped at keeping his secret under wraps,” Ianto insists. “You didn’t have to go to Ricky just to convince him to not to talk to Lisa.”

“Yeah, I did,” Gray says. His tone is more sharp, but Ianto thinks that might have as much to do with the Ricky part as it does with his insistence.

“Why?” he asks, trying to understand. The way Ianto sees it, all Gray has done is buy him some time to try and mend things with Lisa if he wants, which doesn’t exactly seem like a favour to Jack.

“Because if Ricky calls Lisa tonight and tells her that you’ve been dating Jack all summer, or even just that he told you about Lisa’s little indiscretion, what do you think Lisa is going to do? If she’s really as torn up over the idea of losing you as Ricky made it sound, I can tell you  _ exactly _ what she’ll do, she’ll pick up the phone or jump on a plane and start working her arse off to win you back before it’s too late. And I just… I don’t want her to do that yet. I’m not going to tell you who to love or who to choose, but I’m not going to give her that edge if I can help it.”

“I don’t understand,” Ianto says, feeling desperately lost and a little like he’s maybe in the middle of a soap after all. Perhaps he and Ricky should team up to write a screenplay once the dust has settled, if they’re still talking to each other.

“It’s just-” Gray tries again, heaves a frustrated breath and turns to face Ianto fully with fire in his eyes. “I have to make sure that Jack has his chance with you, and if Lisa comes back now… if Lisa comes back now, like it or not, Jack isn’t going to get a fair shot.”

Ianto makes a noise of protest, because he doesn’t like the assumption that he’s that fickle, or that he isn’t as serious about Jack as Jack might be about him, but Gray waves him off.

“I’m not saying you’d do it on purpose. From what Jack’s told me tonight, I know that you two were going to try and give this thing between you a real shot, and I’d like to think I know you well enough - fake dating my brother or not - to know that you wouldn’t make that choice lightly.”

Ianto has to bite his lip hard to keep from grinning at the thought that even in all of the chaos of tonight, Jack hadn’t been able to keep from sharing with his brother, that he’d been feeling strongly enough about their dance floor confessions to need to say it out loud to someone else.  _ We’re giving this a shot _ , Ianto thinks. He bites his lip harder, because Gray is continuing - all solemn eyes and sincere words, and Ianto doesn’t want to ruin the moment by giggling. Gray’s next words help to sober that happiness bubbling inside of him though, reminding him of just how much tonight has sucked despite that one, perfect dance.

“But Ianto, whether you want it or not, right now, a big part of you still belongs to Lisa, and if she came back… you might not intend to, but in the end, it would be easy to go back without ever giving my brother a real chance.”

“Gray…” Ianto begins, emotion swelling within him again at the earnest tone in Gray’s voice as he continues his speech.

“Just, let me finish, okay? I guess what I’m trying to say is that, downstairs, is a boy who is pretty sure he’s just lost his chance with you as soon as he got it, but he’s still here because he has to know that you’re okay. All I’m asking is that you just give him that chance. Give him his chance to love you, because no one has ever given him that opportunity before, and I think he might surprise you. And in the end, whatever or whoever you choose… At least that way, I’ll know the choice was really yours, and not just because Lisa came back before you let yourself give someone else a chance to love you better.”

Ianto finds he has no words to answer that, not after Gray’s laid it all out on the line for him, eyes begging him to not say no, to not walk away now. But he has to find some words, even though his head is starting to hurt from all this talking and confessing, because he can’t stand the thought of Gray assuming he doesn’t have any agency in this decision. He may be feeling hurt and conflicted, and it may be true that Lisa coming back into the picture right this instant would only complicate an already complicated thing, but that doesn’t mean that he would be incapable of choosing his own path. And right now, trust issues, fears of inadequacy, and recent heartache aside, that path is still pointing - God help him - right at Jack Harkness.

“You said your piece; now let me say mine, okay?” Ianto asks, still trying to cobble together words in his mind even as the cozy warmth of his bed and a nearby body are lulling him back towards dreams. Gray nods, even if he does look a little apprehensive.

“I am so thankful that you were there for me tonight, for us. I know it can’t have been easy, seeing Ricky again and even less so going to talk to him after. And I appreciate that you’ve given me the chance to explain things to Lisa and that you’re not telling the rest of your family about Jack and I - because the very last thing I want to do is hurt any of you,  _ especially _ Jack.”

He has to pause for a breath, not just because he’s speaking quickly but also because it’s true, the last person he wants to hurt is Jack, and that realisation nearly stuns him in how very much of a turn around it is from where they started with each other, just two months ago. He nearly stops there, lost in his thoughts about just how much he’s come to care for someone he once professed to hate, but there’s one more important piece and he needs to say it all, needs Gray to understand.

“But I also need you to know that no matter how thankful I am, my choice to be with Jack or not be with Jack isn’t about you - or about Lisa.”

Gray looks like he wants to interrupt but Ianto’s got to say this now, before he loses his nerve.

“You say you want to give him a chance, but he’s giving me a chance, too, and I’m not going to be stupid enough to waste it. I’ve done a lot of thinking this week; hell, I’ve basically just been thinking all summer long, and every single time I try to work out what would be the best thing to do, I always come to the same conclusion: the smart thing would be to walk away now, and not give this thing between Jack and I a real shot.”

Gray is now looking both pissy and panicked, and if Ianto wasn’t so damn tired, he’d probably find it endearing. Instead, he simply forges on.

“But, you know what? Every time I decide that it would be best for me to stop it, my heart won’t let me. Every time I try to walk away, I find myself taking two steps towards him for every one step back. And tonight… tonight, I decided I was going to stop being logical about it all and just go with it, because like it or not, your brother seems to have grown on me. So yes, Gray, I am going to give him a chance - but I’m doing it because as unexpected as it is, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be, because I’m already in too deep, and because being with him is something I want, logical or not. It’s not a favour to you.”

Gray’s look of consternation has faded into an honest grin again, and even though Ianto can still see the raw edges of exhaustion in his features, he also thinks Gray’s expression looks a lot lighter than it has all night.

“Good,” Gray says eventually, when he stops grinning long enough to speak. “I knew I liked you for a reason.”

Ianto smiles, and Gray smirks back before he can’t seem to help but add, “Or maybe, it’s just ‘cause you’re pretty.”

Ianto rolls his eyes, brushing off the compliment, but mostly just feeling at ease again now that it seems things are out in the open between them and Gray hasn’t killed him. He only hopes the inevitable talk he’s going to have to have with Jack in the morning, when they are both awake, goes as well.

“Well, it’s at least, certainly a contributing factor,” Gray presses, clearly enjoying making Ianto’s cheeks stain a little pinker and scooting in as close as Ianto will let him, and snuggling shamelessly into his side. “So, are you okay, then?” he adds after a minute, and Ianto smiles because Gray really does care about him, and he doesn’t know how he’s become so lucky as to find this family in the midst of chaos.

“I will be,” he says as honestly as he can. Things aren’t fixed, but they are better. Maybe in the full light of day, even the Lisa of it all, won’t hurt so badly. Ianto can hope.

“Okay enough to let me sleep in here, for another few hours, with you?” Gray wheedles.

Ianto doesn’t have the energy or the inclination to argue, so he just turns on his side and burrows under the duvet further with a grunt of acquiescence. “Fine, but if  _ you _ screw up my chance with Jack when he finds you here in the morning, I’m going to kick your arse for making me listen to that speech for nothing.”

“Deal,” Gray agrees with a laugh.

A few minutes later, Ianto falls back into sleep to the sound of Gray starting to snore, wondering what exactly his life has become these days - and not really minding so much.

\-----

Ianto is getting used to waking up in strange circumstances, but he still isn’t prepared when he opens his eyes again at half-past ten to the smoke alarm blaring and a smell that he’s pretty sure means the house is burning down.

He sits bolt upright in bed - he’s alone again he realises, even while his mind is preoccupied with more important things - but there doesn’t seem to be any licking flames or clouds of smoke drifting into the room through the open door. Likewise, the hallway seems to be just fine, and, in fact, once he’s halfway down the stairs, the smoke alarm stops its ear-splitting whine and he can hear what sounds like a hushed argument coming from the kitchen.

Feeling confident that the house is not, in fact, burning down - though by the sounds the two boys are making, he’s still sure the kitchen isn’t going to be pretty - he diverts back upstairs and into the bathroom. Barring a life-threatening emergency, there is just no way he is going to face Jack for the first time after they admitted to having feelings without  _ at least _ brushing his teeth.

Once his mouth is minty fresh, he finds himself pulling faces in the mirror as he tries to tame his bed-head and rub the pillow crease marks out of his cheek. Of course his hair doesn’t want to cooperate at all, and while he’d normally have absolutely no doubt about jumping right for the hair products, he also doesn’t want to look like he’s tried too hard. If he actually  _ does _ his hair, he might as well jump in the shower and pick out an outfit while he’s at it, because who the hell would go to breakfast in their pyjamas with just their hair styled? Actually, now that he thinks about it, maybe a shower isn’t a bad idea, because is he really ready to show off his morning-casual look so easily now that he and Jack are maybe - possibly - kind of  _ actually _ dating?

And  _ fuck _ . He’s primping for Jack, isn’t he?

Even that embarrassing realisation isn’t enough to deter him now, and he’s just reaching for the knob to start the bath when a particularly loud crash and yelp from downstairs makes him jump, nearly bashing his head into the shower road and quickly abandoning all hopes of fitting in time to bathe and change before the boys downstairs manage to set the place on fire after all.

He take the stairs two at a time, and when he pushes open the kitchen door cautiously, he can’t stop the laugh that scapes him at the sight that greets him, of Gray and Jack having a furious, whispered argument over the stove where a frying pan holds the charred remains of what - Ianto assumes from the rest of the disarray around the kitchen - was once French toast. The boys freeze mid-sentence to stare at him, looking very much like guilty five-year-olds caught with their hands in the biscuit tin. Ianto laughs again - because really, what else is there to do? - and they lose some of the tension in their bodies as it becomes clear Ianto isn’t about to go on a warpath.

In any other circumstances, Ianto’s pretty sure he’d actually be rather grouchy about the mess. There are more bowls than he even knew they owned spread out across the counter, seemingly containing varying egg yolk mixtures, several with soggy bread chunks floating in the middle or stuck to the side. The fridge door is standing open with a carton of orange juice and what looks like a ripped-open package of bacon resting on the floor in front. Plus, Jack currently seems to be trying to block Ianto’s view of at least ninety percent of the stove top, including what Ianto is pretty sure is a blackened frying pan that will likely need replacing after Jack’s through with it.

But he  _ isn’t _ upset, not even a little. In fact, he’d dare say he’s rather charmed, which is really saying something considering the time Lisa had ruined his favourite cake tin, they didn’t talk for three hours. There is just something about seeing Jack, of all people, doing something as domestic as screwing up breakfast that warms his heart, silly as that may be.

Apparently he’s more enchanted than he realised, because he doesn’t even notice they’ve been doing that grin-and-stare thing until Gray clears his throat.

“And that’s my cue to exit,” Gray pipes up when Ianto finally tears his eyes away and steps completely into the kitchen to start surveying the mess up close.

Ianto arches an eyebrow at him, and Jack mutters something that sounds suspiciously like ‘ _ coward _ ,’ but Gray just gives them both a wink and a smile and scoots out of the kitchen as fast as he can. Ianto rolls his eyes but figures if Gray’s agreed to keep their secret, maybe excusing him from kitchen clean-up is the least they can do. He turns to share this thought with Jack, only to find Jack looking at him, all full of awkward hesitation, and he realises that they are now alone for the first time since last night, and he has  _ no idea _ what he’s supposed to say. It certainly doesn’t help things that Jack is standing in front of the stove barefoot, still wearing his tux trousers from last night but now paired with only an undershirt, all of him looking wrinkled and adorably sleep-mussed.  _ Maybe _ , Ianto thinks,  _ saying things is overrated _ .

Jack breaks the silence before he has a chance to put thought into action. “I, um, was going to make you breakfast.”

Ianto raises an eyebrow that takes in the disaster area that is his kitchen. “I suppose it’s a good thing you didn’t try to make omelettes, or else you’d be forced to explain to your family why the Joneses were moving in after you burned down their house.”

Jack smiles and runs a rueful hand over his hair, making it stick up at even more odd angles as he, too, sheepishly takes in the mess around him. Ianto’s pretty sure he’s got egg on his elbow. “It’s the thought that counts?” he asks, smirk back in place as he tosses the - likely ruined - pan into the sink where half a dozen other dirty pots and pans are stacked up - and, really, does it take that many dishes to attempt French toast?

“Would it be so bad to move in, though?” Jack adds a second later. Ianto is tempted to blow it off with another tease, but there is something in Jack’s expression that tells him maybe this is Jack’s way of broaching difficult subjects, of checking to see where Ianto stands after last night.

Truthfully, Ianto isn’t quite sure  _ where _ he stands - not when it comes to Lisa, or trust, or love as a whole, but he does know where he’d like to stand with Jack.

“No, it wouldn’t be so bad,” he says, hoping Jack understands that he’s still here, just like he promised. From the wide grin he gets in return, he thinks he said the right thing at least.

“Good,” Jack says, shaking off his huge smile into a smaller, softer one. “And I may be shit at cooking, but I did make coffee, at least.”

He turns to the counter and grabs an already prepared mug - the black one with white polka dots that is secretly Ianto’s favourite. Ianto is making grabby hands already, because even through the lingering tang of burnt bread, he can already smell the aroma of well-brewed coffee and his body is screaming for the warmth and caffeine. Jack hands it off, looking amused at Ianto’s eagerness, and then watches carefully as Ianto takes his first sip.

It’s perfect, just how he likes it, just like it’s always been every time Jack’s handing him coffee all summer long. “One of these days, you’re going to tell me how on Earth you figure out how I take my coffee,” he murmurs, not really expecting an answer, and not caring too much about getting one at the moment, as the bitter taste hits his tongue and makes him hum contentedly.

“One of these days, maybe I will,” Jack teases, picking up his own mug and sipping, too.

For a few minutes, there is a companionable silence as they both stand in the kitchen, drinking their coffee and readjusting to each other’s presence. This time, it is Ianto who breaks the silence, placing his mug on the kitchen table and sinking into a seat.

“So, we probably need to talk about last night,” he says slowly.

Jack won’t quite meet his eyes but nevertheless slides into the chair across from him. “Gray already told me,” he says quickly. “We don’t have to talk about it anymore if you don’t want to. I know… I know that it must still be hard, because of how you feel about Lisa.”

“It is hard,” Ianto admits, hating the way that makes Jack’s expression fall. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not willing to talk about it. With you,” he adds, glad for even the weak smile that earns him.

“Look, Ianto, I told you last night I wasn’t going to ask you for any promises.” Jack sighs. “And, I meant that. So it’s okay if you’ve changed your mind, about this thing with us.”

“Jack,” Ianto says, reaching across the table to try and grab Jack’s hand. He draws back, hurt, when Jack flinches away from his touch.

“I’m not… I don’t need anything from you, explanations or platitudes or anything, okay? I get it.”

Jack has his hands gripped tight together in his lap, and Ianto can see tension radiating from his held-stiff shoulders all the way down his arms. He seems - for the first time in Ianto’s memory - almost small, tucked into himself and refusing to meet Ianto’s eyes as if he’s bracing for the worst.  _ Expect it even _ , Ianto realises, watching Jack twist his fingers around each other as he waits for Ianto to tell him what he thinks he’s going to hear, as he waits for Ianto to end things.

“You don’t get anything.” Ianto sighs, perhaps a little more exasperated than he ought to be, but he’s still tired and maybe a naive part of him had hoped they were past assumptions like this. “I’m not changing my mind.”

That gets Jack’s attention, and he looks up, expression startled and cautiously hopeful. “You’re not?”

“No,” Ianto says firmly. “I’m not saying that last night didn’t make things more complicated, for me at least, and I  _ do _ think we ought to talk about it, but I haven’t changed my mind about what I said. I’m not ready to walk away from this thing between us. I’m still  _ here _ , Jack.”

Jack lets out the breath he’s been holding, huffing out a tiny, self-deprecating laugh as he scrubs his hands over his face. When he drops them, he’s smiling again, still hesitant but real, and he reaches out to take Ianto’s hand. Ianto’s heart gives one, quick, bright throb at the gesture, because for a minute, he’d been afraid that even this wouldn’t be enough, that Jack would still pull away. When Ianto flips his palm over, unfurling fingers to wrap around Jack’s, Jack’s whole body relaxes just a touch more, and Ianto takes his first, full breath in what feels like hours.

“So you keep telling me,” Jack says, eyes dropping to their joined hands.

Ianto gives them both another few seconds to just enjoy the connection before he hedges to try and speak again. “About last night…”

“Can we just-” Jack cuts him off, eyes darting up to Ianto’s briefly and then dropping again, even as his fingers tighten around Ianto’s hand. “Can we just not talk about that, yet? Just for a while? I didn’t really get the chance to enjoy  _ this _ last night.” He squeezes Ianto’s hand again, and Ianto feels his heart stutter a little. “So, can we just… wait?”

Ianto doesn’t know if that’s the best plan, but he also doesn’t think he has it in him to deny Jack anything he wants, not today. “Yeah, okay. For a little while. But, we do need to talk.”

“We will,” Jack insists. “I promise. Though, come to think of it, I’d also rather not have that talk  _ here _ .”

“What’s wrong with here?” Ianto asks, can’t help but tease. “Except for the smell of your failed cooking experiment, of course.”

Jack rolls his eyes but doesn’t raise to the bait. “The problem with here is that this whole house feels like it’s got too much history, too much of  _ your _ history, in it. Believe it or not, it’s kinda hard to go anywhere in this house, or even this city, without feeling like I’m stepping on bits of  _ LisaandIanto _ .”

They both wince a little at the name, but Ianto soldiers on. “So, where do you want to talk, then? When you’re ready, I mean.”

Jack hesitates for a long moment, like he’s considering something, before saying, “We could go away for awhile.”

Even his tone is hesitant, like he’s definitely expecting Ianto to say no. Ianto is mostly just confused.

“Away?”

“Yeah. My parents have a house right on the front of Loch Lomond in the Trossachs National Park. We go up there for a week or two every summer; everyone’s actually heading up there in a couple weeks - I was going to tell you about it after the gala actually. But, um. Well, Gray said maybe you’d want to go early, with me, I mean. We could go down there before everyone else, get away from Wales and all the drama for a few weeks. If you want.”

Jack’s still looking like he’s expecting a big fat ‘ _ No thanks _ ,’ but, really, Ianto doesn’t think he’s ever heard a better idea in his life. The chance to get away from Wales? The chance to get to learn about Jack again, to try out this thing between them, without all the baggage that this city, this  _ country _ , brings with it? That sounds pretty much like heaven.

“Yes.”

Ianto says it before he plans to, cutting into Jack’s continued rambling about ‘ _ no pressure _ ’ and ‘ _ being happy to stay here, too.’ _ “Yes, let’s go. When can we go?”

He’s already constructing the perfect convincing argument to feed his parents over the phone tonight, so that they don’t freak out about the idea of Ianto taking off with his boyfriend. Not that he thinks his parents would stop him; they’ve been trying hard to live by that ‘ _ you’re nearly grown now, anyway _ ’ rule, but they are his parents and aren’t always successful. Ianto thinks it would probably be a point in his favour to at least tell his parents he’s leaving so they don’t get back home to find him simply gone.

“Seriously?”

Ianto nods emphatically, and all at once, Jack is smiling again.

“We can leave tomorrow if you want,” Jack says. “I just have to go home to pack and pick up the keys to the place, clear it with my parents just to be sure, but I could come and pick you up in the morning?”

Now that Ianto’s got it in his mind, even that sounds like forever away. He’s suddenly anxious to get going, to have Jack all to himself and finally maybe have a real shot at this thing they’ve been dancing around and have only so recently begun. “Sure, okay, that sounds good. What time?” He hopes it’s early.

“It’s like an eight hour drive,” Jack says. “Not counting stops. So, um, six? Is that too early?”

“Sounds perfect,” Ianto tells him, smiling just as big.

The thought of all that space between him and Cardiff, of being somewhere brand new, is intoxicating.  _ Not to mention all that time alone for other kinds of activities _ , his mind supplies helpfully, making him duck his head down and take another hasty sip of his coffee to hide the flush he’s sure is suddenly staining his cheeks. He can’t really help it though, because Jack is looking happy and rumpled across from him, lips quirked up in a little smile that makes Ianto feel like he’s glowing and it’s all for  _ him _ . Plus, it’s not been nearly a week since he last kissed Jack, and questions of emotional maturity aside, he is still a nearly-eighteen-year-old boy with a brand new maybe-boyfriend - who is nearly unbearably hot even at his worst. Is it his fault that his mind is going to not-so-innocent places when he thinks about a big empty house and the romance of it?

Mostly though, in less than twenty-four hours, he’ll be on the road with Jack, with nothing in front of them but the space and time to figure out what they are to each other, and what they want to be. It seems things are finally looking up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, that was it! thank you all who commented and sent their love throughout this. this isn't the end. this is just the end of part one.
> 
> thank you as always for being my beta and holding my hand through this, princessoftheworlds!


End file.
